Remembering to Forget
by Scarlett Catalyst
Summary: Arria Tamarisk is the notorious courier re-painting the Mojave the way it should be. But, will she be so high and mighty when she truly remembers who she really is and what she was really running from? Will the people she has befriended still stand by her when they find out she may not be the person they know? Her past could ruin everything. F! Courier/ C. Boone. F! Courier/Vulpes
1. Chapter 1

Arria stopped in the middle of the road, the hair on the back of her neck vertical with a silent warning. The night air swirled around her, bringing with it the smell of unwashed bodies. Whoever was stalking her did not consider hygiene a priority. She crinkled her nose. Probably men. About seven of them give or take one, laying in wait up ahead. Were they really going to try to ambush her? Really? Why did that even seem like a good idea? All she had on her was the Platinum Chip that she was supposed to deliver to The Strip.

Someone walked out behind her, trying the herd her forward. Smirking, she walked toward her would-be attacker, cracking her knuckles. It had been a while since she had gotten the chance to stretch her muscles. This was going to be fun.

The man wielded a knife wildly in her direction, which she avoided. She used his momentum to bring him closer. When she was within arm's length, he reached out again. In the blink of an eye, Arria grabbed his arm and twisted as hard as she could. Vaguely, she could hear the bones in his arm crack. With a gentle tinkling sound, the knife fell to the ground. He groaned in pain before she flipped him over and kicked his head in.

As she began to wipe his brains from her boots, two more thugs appeared, this time on the road in front of her. Abandoning her cleaning, she walked out to meet them. Both wielded shotguns aimed directly at her head. She raised her hands, pretending to surrender. They came closer, caution written in their movements. One man put his shotgun back in his pack to begin patting her down. When he was bent down to check her legs, she grabbed his gun and shot his partner in the face. Then, she beat him with the butt until he stopped moving.

She raised the pilfered gun to strike one last time when her vision suddenly became blurred by pain. Her body was propelled to the ground by a brutal knockout hit from behind. She rolled herself over, groaning, to find a man in a checkered suit standing over her. Before she could try to get up, he brought the gun down, and all she saw was black.

* * *

Her eyes were lead weights which she fought to open. Her knees protested the weight of kneeling. The pounding in her head was a constant reminder that, despite whatever had happened, she was still alive. Wait. What _had_ happened? She groaned quietly. Slowly, the previous events flooded back into her mind. At least she had thrown her pack at the last minute. Bastards didn't deserve her stuff.

The calm of the night was disturbed by the sounds of someone out of her range of sight digging into the earth, his pace steady and unhurried. Men in front of her argued loudly about some kind of payment, and she flinched at their raised voices. She couldn't make sense of what they were arguing about. Through squinted eyes, she attempted to survey her surroundings.

The man in a checkered suit stood directly in front of her. He seemed to be the one in charge, characterized by his proud stance and sneer of importance. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out over her head. He was surrounded by four other men, all of them with some sort of weapon. Her eyes darted between them trying to formulate an escape plan, despite the less than desirable odds. It wasn't as if she had seen worse. She tested her trusses to find no weakness. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Guess who's waking up over here," one of the men commented. His voice was rough, and he had a slight accent that she would have guessed was Great Khan. She lifted her head to look her captors in the face.

The man in the checkered suit took one last drag, blew the smoke in the direction of her face, and stomped it out. "Time to cash out," he said simply. His men begged him to just "get it over with", but he held up a hand.

"Maybe Khans kill people without lookin' 'em in the face, but I ain't a fink, dig?" His companions shuffled nervously with that proclamation. He finally looked at her as he pulled out the platinum chip she was supposed to deliver from his jacket pocket. Anger surged in her, and she noted that anger was probably not what she should have felt. "You made your last delivery, kid." And with that, he put away the chip and pulled out a mint condition 9mm pistol. She eyed the detail with appreciation. It was adorned with nickel and ivory, definitely for show. Not the most practical gun for the Mojave, but he didn't look like he had to use it much.

"Sorry you got twisted up in this scene," he said, eyeing her intently. He flashed the gun in a way that was meant to scare her. She just smirked up at him in defiance. "From where you're kneeling it must seem like an 18-carat run of bad luck. But, truth is...the game was rigged from the start." He aimed the gun straight at her head. She reared back and spit in his face right as he pulled the trigger. _Always knew I would die by the gu_n_,_ she thought to herself before everything went black.

* * *

A gun shot followed by blinding pain and a white light were her last memories. The phrase "18-carat run of bad luck" echoed in the nothingness. It could all have been a dream if it weren't for the pain. At least there was no more fighting, no more guilt. Whatever happened to her now, she was free. Slowly, the pain subsided, melting into comfort, and she floated on an ocean of tranquility, vaguely wondering if this was what death felt like.


	2. Chapter 2

Arria walked past the bodies of the dead Powder Gangers making sure to plant a swift kick on any part of them she could reach. When she reached Joe Cobb's corpse, she made sure to punt his head as far from his body as she could. Cocky little bastards. She smiled with grim satisfaction when she saw a gecko scuttle off with his head between its jaws. Truth was, she was just glad to be _doing_ something-anything-other than resting. Sure, the good people of Goodsprings had taken care of her for a week, but sitting back and twiddling her thumbs was driving her crazy.

She looted the bodies, taking anything that would be useful, including a pair of sunglasses. Like almost everything else, she had forgotten how harsh the Mojave's sun could be on the eyes. If only she could find her pack. She had searched her would-be grave only to find cigarette butts. When she had come back empty handed, Trudy gave her an old pack filled with survival gear. That must have taken a great deal of caps. Arria had hidden a grimace-pity never set well with her. Well, now they were even. She had saved this failing little town. Now, it could eke out a living for at least one more day.

"Hey! Wait up!" came a voice from behind her. When she turned around, she had to stop herself from sighing with frustration. It was Ringo, a courier from the Crimson Caravan and the whole reason those Powder Gangers had wanted to raze the place to the ground. If he hadn't been such a coward and dealt with the problem himself, he wouldn't have put this town in danger. She pushed that thought down and smiled at him.

"Well, if it isn't Ringo. What can I do for you now?" she asked her voice believably cheerful. She couldn't really blame him. There had been quite a few of them.

"Here," he said, handing her 100 caps. She tilted her head in confusion. "If you ever stop by the Crimson Caravan, I'll have more for you. This is all I had. Thank you so much."

Arria smiled at the other courier; it was a tight smile, but it was something. "No problem. It's the least I can do for these people. I'll look you up, if I'm in the area. See ya." And with that she finally left that dying town in her dust.

She followed that broken stretch of road, taking in her surroundings. Everything was brown and dusty, not a glimpse of green anywhere she looked. This land had once been bright and vibrant, albeit a very _long_ time ago, but due to the tampering of people, it had lost itself. It had to re-invent itself. She could relate. It was that thought that made her more confident in herself (not that she really needed it). If nature could thrive, so could she. Besides, she had survived this long. If only she could _remember._

Sometimes, images would glimmer on the edges of her vision, but it was as if her mind wasn't ready to acknowledge them and would distract her with a major headache. She was too stubborn to go see Doc about it, however. The pains stopped after three days anyways. It was probably just new connections forming. Hopefully, now that she was past that, she could get her memories back.

It was beyond frustrating not knowing who you were or what you were doing with your life. Sunny had told her to use this opportunity to re-invent herself. But, what if there was nothing wrong with how she was before? Hell, she could have been a saint for all she knew. She snorted. _Yeah, right._

The trip was generally uneventful, only the odd gecko and bloatfly to shake things up. She made sure she cleaned the road for good, going after anything that moved. Practice was needed anyways. She was surprisingly good with her guns; it was just a matter of remembering.

She made it to Primm as the sun was highest in the sky, only to be unceremoniously stopped by a man in army gear. Something twinged in her mind, something she should remember. She gritted her teeth with mild frustration.

"Primm is off-limits to civilians," the solider said. "It's been taken over by Powder Gangers."

Arria blinked in mild annoyance. She was getting in there, one way or another. "I can take care of myself, thanks. I won't be in there long enough for it to matter anyways."

"Suit yourself." And with that he walked away. His job almost seemed pointless if he was going to give up that easily. Maybe she should ask a few questions, just to be on the safe side. Eventually, she found the tiny cluster of tents past the entrance of Primm and walked into the first one she found.

She was greeted by a generically handsome young man dressed in army gear. Her eyes automatically swept the room for anything out of the ordinary. All she could find were a couple mattresses and a scant amount of supplies. Once she deemed there were no threats in the tent, she turned her attention to the clean-cut individual standing in front of her.

"I'm Lieutenant Hayes of the New California Republic, 5th Battalion, 1st Company. How can I help you?" he asked in a tone that was brisk and commanding. She quirked an eyebrow. Something inside her screamed with defiance. Maybe she wasn't good with authority?

"I'm Arria Tamarisk, a courier with the Mojave Outpost in Primm. What happened here?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, as if the incident was the biggest load of shit he had ever heard. "Some convict broke out of the correctional facility down the road and took over Primm. We've been trying to get in there to get the convicts out, but we have so few soldiers it's hard to make a dent."

She shook her head in disbelief. Really? This was the great NCR? What was Caesar worried about? Arria mentally shook herself at that thought, almost disgusted in herself for reasons she couldn't quite grasp. Where had that even come from? "I'll see what I can do." And with that, she left without another word.

She finally had something to do; she was almost giddy with the thought. She quickly started to plot her plan of attack. Guns blazing or quiet as a ghost? Either way, it was time to play.

The soldier stationed at the barricade in front of the entrance to Primm looked at her incredulously as she sashayed passed him and disarmed the two landmines they had placed. She tossed her hair back over her shoulder and winked at the solider, pulling out a stick of dynamite she had looted. The irony of killing Powder Gangers with their favorite brand of weapon hadn't eluded her. Crouching down, she pulled out her lighter and slowly crept toward the nearest building.

Arria heard them before she saw them; they were obviously making no effort to be quiet. From what she could hear, she guessed there were two of them, and they were on a smoke break. She lit the fuse and counted to ten before she rounded the corner and tossed it in the direction of their voices. Within a few seconds, she watched as two bodies flew through the air, both dead before they hit the ground. The courier scuttled over to their mangled forms and put a bullet between the eyes on both of them-just to be on the safe side-before she looted their corpses.

Afterward, she made her way into the nearest building, where she came face to face with a shotgun wielded by a grim faced old man. She sighed and restrained herself from knocking the old man out. Besides, something about his face made her memory twitch. She cocked her head in a show of confusion.

"Do you always greet new people this way?" she asked, eyeing the man's gun with mock appreciation.

"I think you need to turn tail and get out while you still can, youngin'. This town has gone to shit, and we don't need another mouth to feed in here," he warned, lowering his gun a tad and pointing it toward the door. She shook her head.

"Not here to stay. I just need some info, and I'll be on my way," she stated simply, trying not to grit her teeth. Quickly, she reached into her pocket to pull out the order form that Doc Mitchell had given to her. The man's eyebrows almost flew into his non-existent hair.

"Well, I'll be. I almost didn't recognize you, courier. Sorry about that. Times are tough, if you know what I mean. What can I do for you?"

Arria resisted the urge to snort. Instead she launched into her story, and demanded to know if he could help her at all. By the time she was done, he had propped his shotgun up on the wall behind him and he was rubbing the back of his neck.

"Huh. I knew that delivery seemed a bit hinky. I'm really sorry that happened to ya. You can rest up here for a few days, but that's about all I can offer for now," he said, not meeting her eye. There was more and she knew it. Trudy wouldn't have sent her here for nothing-at least she would hope not. The smell of bullshit was thick with him. "If you want to know more about the man who shot you, though, I know someone who can help you."

"Where are they?" she asked.

"Well, our deputy was following around a group of suspicious looking people before he was captured and taken into the Bison Steve hotel across the way. He'd be your best bet," he explained.

"And you don't know anything?"

Johnson simply shook his head. She knew he was lying, but there was nothing she could do to get anymore info out of him. Well, no more peaceful ways to get info; so, with a sigh, she made her way to the Bison Steve hotel across the way.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time she had reached the useless Deputy Beagle, she was cursing his idiocy, Nash, Powder Gangers, and the whole town of Primm in general. The burn on her arm was tingling painfully, an annoying reminder of the leader who just wouldn't die. His grunts could still be heard from the doorway he was hanging from.

Beagle was staring at her as if she were some super mutant with three heads, constantly glancing at her arm that was beginning to shed the dead skin and grow anew. "How are you doing that?"

Arria looked down at her arm in mild surprise. The burn was now just a bright red spot, about the size of a baseball. At least it wasn't mind-numbingly painful anymore. However, right now wasn't the time to ask those kinds of questions nor was it what she wanted to focus on; so, she shrugged and looked him over, trying to decide if he would run as soon as he was released. She didn't need his back-up, but she wanted him to suffer a bit more. If he had been better at his job and not a product of nepotism, she wouldn't have to jaunt around town as an errand girl for Nash. She would already have her info, and been half way to her next destination.

"Hello to you, too. And you're very welcome for saving your ass, by the way," she hissed, her eyes narrowing. Ungrateful pig.

He regained himself instantly. "I appreciate your efforts mightily ma'am, truly I do. Excuse my sorry excuse for an introduction. But, under the circumstances, you can see why I am so iffy, can't you?" He attempted to blind her with a winning smile, but she just narrowed her eyes further. "Ahem. Anyways, if you could untie me, I would appreciate your efforts all the more, ma'am," he added, pointedly eyeing his bondage.

She quirked her eyebrow and leaned against the table in front of the deputy, enjoying this feeling of power. She felt like a cat toying with a cowering mouse. "What's in it for me? Are you just going to scurry off and leave me here to clean up the mess?"

"N-not if you don't want me to ma'am," he gulped, every bit his part as the mouse. She watched his jugular pulse quicken with fear, and she began to tap on the table.

"Now here's the thing, sir," she said, her voice sweet honey. "I don't believe you. I have done plenty for you so far, but what have you done for me? Nothing. But there is something you can do for me."

He gulped again. "What is it?"

"Tell me everything you know about the Khans that passed through here along with a gentleman in a checkered suit. If I find your information satisfactory, I will let you go. However, if you refuse to cooperate, I can become your worst nightmare, and considering you're still bound, that option doesn't sound too good, does it? I could leave you here to rot. Capiche?" she warned, leaning in close to watch his eyes dilate. She smirked and leaned back.

"You wouldn't," he insisted, shaking his head. He opened his mouth with an air of indignation, but she quickly put one finger to his mouth, tutting.

"Oh, good sir, but I would. I so would. You mean nothing to me. You are a means to an end. I can just go tell Nash that I found your body mangled, and see what he could tell me about what I needed to know, since I had completed his little errand. However, I'd rather not have any more blood on my hands, especially not the blood of an innocent. So, you were saying, sir?"

According to the deputy they were heading south toward Nipton, then to Novac to meet someone. Who, it could not be said. Beagle had gotten caught soon after hearing that nugget of precious info. Arria had quickly let him free and ordered him to leave as fast as he could scamper. She was sick of his sniveling. He had started to cry soon after her threat. A definite man of courage he was. She rolled her eyes.

After letting the blubbering deputy free, she walked back over to the leader of the Powder Gangers, who was still hanging by his underwear on a door frame. He groaned when he saw her and spit blood in her direction.

"You missed," she chuckled, ruffling his hair. "Is that any way to treat the woman who let you live? I may have forgotten everything, but I do believe that's still considered impolite. Not that manners will serve you very much longer. I still have to figure out what to do with you. Any ideas?"

"Let me go," he gasped, and she busted out laughing.

"Why, sir, I think you were reading my mind!" she exclaimed. "But you are far too underdressed. Here, let me help you."

With that, she dragged him off the door, and threw him on the ground. He landed with a satisfying thud. She sped to the fire, where a piece of metal was heating up. She grabbed two nearby shirts and pulled it from the fire. The man tried feebly to shuffle away when he saw her marching toward him with a grim look on her face.

"A burn for a burn," she hissed as she flipped him on his back with a swift kick. She sat herself on top on him and pressed the red metal to his skin. By the time she was done, he had screamed himself horse and there was an angry "PG" burned into his forearm.

"Now, listen to me," she growled, throwing the metal to the side and grabbing a fist full of his hair. She brought his face close. He was swimming in and out of consciousness. "I said listen, and listen well, sir. I'm going to let you free now. You are charged with telling everyone what happened here today and that Primm is free. Understood?" He nodded halfheartedly. She yanked his head back again.

"Answer me, son. I can't hear the rocks in your head rattle. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, please, just let me go. Please," he begged. She smirked and threw his head down.

"Fine. Here, let me help you out." And with that, she got up, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him right out of the Bison Steve Hotel, where she tossed him onto the hard concrete of the road. "And go see the doctor about those injuries. What a shame you burned yourself," she crooned, throwing a few caps onto his chest. He coughed up blood and passed out as she walked back into the hotel to clean out the rest of them.

When she was done, he was gone, with only a splotch of blood to show he was ever there. She almost felt bad for how she treated him. Almost. There was still a majority inside her that said he deserved it. Well, she may have possibly lost her temper a little bit. At least she knew for sure that she was no saint.

"Ma'am?" a plaintive voice pleaded. She looked around to find Beagle trying to make himself as small as possible. She quirked her eyebrow and turned to find out what he wanted. "I was just wondering if you could continue your campaign for this town and find us a sheriff."

She couldn't keep the surprise off her face. Really? _Really?_ Was he serious? "Why can't you be sheriff? Weren't you being _trained_ to be sheriff?"

He winced at the harshness of her words, and she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. She didn't have the patience to deal with him anymore. "Who do you have in mind?" she sighed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** Hey guys. I just want to pop in and say thanks for reading. I really appreciate it, but most of all, I'm hoping you guys like it! It took a lot for me to put this up, and I'm just glad someone's reading it. Sorry this chapter will be a bit wordy and slow. It's mostly to lay a ground work. I have big plans for this, and I hope you guys just stick with me! Thanks again guys. Oh yeah! Any feedback would be appreciated, but no pressure.

* * *

For some reason, she couldn't go ask for NCR assistance. They seemed too thinly spread as it is, and she didn't want to come back here in a few months to deal with a new infestation. The only other option was to waltz into a jail filled with Powder Gangers, extract a felon, and place him in a position of power here in Primm. The idea seemed completely insane. She was beginning to question her own soundness. Didn't she just send a leader of that very same gang to go tell everyone what she did? Talk about a major case of 'foot-in-mouth' syndrome. Maybe this was a time when diplomacy would not apply.

She looked down at her Pip-Boy to get a general direction down when she noticed that the Correctional Facility was rather close to Goodsprings. Maybe she could pop back there for a second a see Doc Mitchell and get some answers about what was happening with her. Obviously, gruesome burns weren't meant to heal completely in less than 30 minutes. Maybe he had seen something when he was digging out the bullet in her brain and just didn't mention it to her. It was worth the extra few miles. Besides, she could look for her pack again.

She took Nash up on his offer and slept in one of the beds he could spare. With the Powder Gangers gone, people weren't forced to stay in the Vicky and Vance, and quickly dispersed back into their homes. Ruby even cooked her up a radscorpion casserole as thanks, which she wolfed down after a quick check for sores-wouldn't want radscorpion poison to get directly into her bloodstream. She chuckled to herself. Survived a shot to the head, but killed by Ruby Nash's radscorpion casserole.

That night, it took her forever to actually fall asleep. She tossed and turned-sometimes too hot, other times too cold. After the day she had, she should have been out as soon as she hit the mattress. Her mind kept flashing back to her would be assassin. His last words to her kept ringing in her ears, almost like a mantra. _The game was rigged from the start. __The game was rigged from the start. __The game was rigged..._ She growled, and tossed around for the millionth time.

She woke and left before the sun was even close to rising the next morning. She reveled in the cool Mojave wind against her face and the quietness that accompanied this time of day.

While she was walking, she attempted to bully her brain into remembering something…anything. Who was she? Where did she belong? What was she doing with her life before she was ambushed? _Why_ was she ambushed? His face jumped to her mind again, but she flat-out refused to acknowledge it. He almost took her life. She was not going to let him consume her second chance. She sighed, knowing that no matter how much she fought it, she would never stop thinking about him until he laid dead at her feet.

Sometime later, the sun started to peek at her over the horizon and she pulled the shades down off her head. The sky streaked with pink and orange and white as the sun continued to rise over the Mojave. All around her she could hear the sounds of the Mojave waking up little by little. First, it was the far off birds, cawing. Then, it was the geckos fighting.

Abruptly, however, she doubled over, cradling her head in her hands. A pain shot from the back of her cranium all the way to the back of her eyeballs, and all of a sudden she was no longer in the desert viewing the beautiful sunrise and listening to the waking sounds of a desolate desert.

She stood in front of what looked like a huge wall holding back a massive expanse of water. A dam maybe? Her hair whipped over her face in the early morning wind. All around men prepared for whatever was going to happen next. She flexed and stretched, warming up to rush in. She donned her crimson mantle and her shiny metal helmet before grabbing her gun. Someone walked up behind her and placed their hand gently on her shoulder.

"I want you to be safe during this," said the person. She turned around and saw a blur of a face that spread warmth through her whole body. The only thing she could make out were his eyes, which softened when they looked upon her. He wasn't in complete armor yet, but he still shone with impressiveness. However, he was hard to completely recognize and his lines seem to glitch every few seconds.

"Of course I will, Dad," she smiled up at him, her voice slightly distorted. Everything sounded as if she were standing at the bottom of a well.

His eyes beamed down at her, and he gently nicked her chin with his fist. Then, as soon as he came up, he was gone, called off by one of his men. He was replaced by another man. This one was tall and thin, yet intimidating. His lines glitched just like her father's.

"You really don't have to do this," the man hissed, his voice not more than a whisper. She laughed in his face, which was blurred and hard make out.

"Of course I do," she stated, as she stopped laughing. His piercing blue eyes were the only thing she could really make out, and they locked with hers.

"You have nothing to prove."

She took a step back and shook her head indignantly. "It's not about that," she said simply, glancing over his shoulder to the blur that was her father. His figure was facing their direction, presumably watching them closely.

"He'll be fine. He's the…" She couldn't quite make out what he had said.

"I don't have a good feeling about this. I have to watch out for him…and for you," she argued, her voice echoing.

"What, woman's intuition?" he mocked. She glared and punched him square in his jaw. In slow motion, he flew back and landed hard on his back. Distantly she heard her father laughed appreciatively.

"Leave me alone. I have to prepare," she growled as she stalked off, her own voice sounding far off.

With a hiss and a sigh, Arria came back to herself. Quickly, she stood back up and looked around to make sure she was in no danger. Once she was sure she was safe (well as safe as she could be in the Mojave), she shook her pounding head and tried to evaluate the already fading memory.

What did this mean? Despite being happy about finally getting a memory back, she was frustrated and a bit wary. Maybe she didn't want to know who she was. To be honest, it wasn't a bad memory, but there could be ones coming that weren't so pleasant. She really hadn't liked the atmosphere of that memory; it had the eerie sense of impending war.


	5. Chapter 5

"Yeah, I meant to talk to ya about that before ya left. Ya were in such a hurry, though; I didn't think it would be appropriate timing to mention it," said Doc Mitchell.

She shook her head incredulously. When _would_ have been a good time? He read her face and shook his head.

"I thought it was a medical anomaly. When Victor brought ya to me, ya were half healed. I had to work fast to get all the shards out before ya healed with them inside. Blood pressure wasn't that bad either. I didn't see anything in your brain to cause a commotion, so I wrote ya off as lucky," he explained calmly.

By the time he was done with his speech, her head was cradled in her hands, and she was trying to see this clearly through her pounding headache.

"You're a doctor! You didn't think there was reason to investigate further?" She didn't know why she was getting so upset. This man saved her life. She owed him more than this.

He smiled knowingly. "I was more worried about keeping you alive. Did I make the right call?"

She lifted her head from her hands and examined the aging medic. This man could have just let her die in the name of researching something he hadn't come across before, but he didn't. He fought to save a girl that was on the brink of death. Arria would simply have to be grateful to the doctor and find answers elsewhere.

She bid the good doctor adieu and headed for the graveyard she would have been buried in, if not for him. She made a mental note to work on this gratitude thing in the future.

When she finally climbed to the top of the hill that held Goodspring's graveyard, she gave her would-be grave a wide berth. There was no reason to tempt fate any further. She did, however, investigate anything and everything she possibly could around the grave in search of her pack. She _knew_ she had hid it somewhere before she was ambushed; it was one of the few things she could remember. If only she could remember _where_. It was beyond frustrating.

Finally, _finally_, she walked on the other side of the hill where she found her pack half way down, as if it had be thrown. The most miraculous thing that had happened to her so far (besides, you know, living through getting shot in the head) was the fact that nothing besides a few caps had fallen out. Everything was there, even her most prized possession-her sniper rifle. She had to stop herself from hugging it to herself with glee, but she did allow herself a stolen moment of emotional indulgence.

A couple hours after finding her pack, she was climbing another hill. Unlike the one in Goodsprings, this hill would lead her to the NCRCF and a bunch of pissed off inmates. She wasn't too excited about this one, but it was time to face the music and deal with her actions. Hell, she survived one shot to the head; maybe luck would watch over her a second time.

"You have two seconds to tell me why you're walking you're walking your skinny, white ass up in my space," the inmate guarding the door growled as she sauntered up to him. She made sure to keep one hand behind her back, clutching her combat knife.

"Maybe I just wanted a tour."

He eyed her suspiciously. "You know, I just got a report of a leggy brunet with cold eyes burning up one of our members. Considering your, leggy, brunet, and cold, you seem to fit the bill."

She smirked at him. "Awww. You caught me," she murmured, quickly pulling him closer and slitting his throat. His gasping form fell to the ground. To add insult to injury, she wiped her soiled blade on his shirt before looting his body.

When she walked in, she quickly assessed the threat, aimed, and fired at anyone who showed signs of hostility. Three quick shots later, she was left in the room with an older gentleman calmly sipping a drink. He didn't appear to be ruffled by her violent appearance, nor the fact that he was facing the barrel of her gun.

"Didn't know anyone would willingly walk into this place, unless they were looking for trouble. And lil' missy, I do believe you've found it," said the man. She awarded him a smile in return. "I'm Daniel Meyers, by the way."

"I was actually looking for you. There seems to be something we need to discuss, Meyers." She put away her gun and sat across from him with her hands spread out on the table. He eyed her curiously.

"And what might that be?"

She smiled. "I have a proposition for you. How would you like to become the new sheriff in Primm?"

He leaned back, scratching his chin. His silent pondering lasted a lifetime and a half, but Arria forced herself not to fidget. _Always look calm and confident, Arria_, a male voice echoed in her head. _Never let people get the best of you. _Great. Now, she was hearing voices. She mentally shook herself and focused on Meyers.

He was nodding when he finally spoke. "Assuming an NCR pardon comes with the job- and it had better- I'll also need to be able to do things my way. Due process has its place, but sometimes it's just a waste of time. I'll need to know that I'm not going to end up right back in prison."

She bit her lip. "Does that mean you'll take the law into your own hands?"

"When I need to, yes."

She pondered it for a second. What was his idea of wrong-doing? And just how far would he take his power? She looked him over again. It wasn't like she couldn't put him in his place if she had to later on down the road. Besides, she did come all the way down here. "All right then. You got a deal. I'll get to work on your pardon," she agreed, holding out her hand. He took it, and they shook on their settlement.

"All right, then. Guess I'll just make a quiet exit- no need for a goodbye party or anything." And with that, he was gone. Arria stuck around for a minute to loot the bodies. She left out with her pack considerably heavier.


	6. Chapter 6

Arria stared at Lieutenant Hayes with disbelief. "Come again? What did you just say?"

He sighed. "As much as I appreciate your efforts in Primm, I can't authorize that pardon. You'll have to go see Major Knight up at the Mojave Outpost and ask him."

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. The longer this took, the farther what's-his-name would get. She was half tempted to just say forget it. She had her information. She saved their damn deputy. They were square.

Even as she thought that, she knew her conscious wouldn't let her live with that decision. Inwardly, she groaned. "Fine, I'll go. Thank you for all your help," she said, trying to sound as gracious as possible. She fought the urge to flip him off as she left.

She took her anger out on a swarm of giant radscorpions, letting them crawl after her and then shooting them when they got too close. By the time she stumbled upon a decrepit gas station and dealt with its violent squatter, she felt a little better. Well, at least okay enough to try to get some sleep. The sun slowly crept toward the horizon as she made up camp and started a fire. Afterward, she hunted a nearby gecko and cooked it on the fire, feeling rather content. The stars twinkled down on her, the fire crackled comfortingly, and her cooking tasted better than she expected.

When she finished her meal and put out the fire, she grabbed her pack and climbed to the roof so she could set up her bed roll. As she crawled into it, she found that sleep wouldn't be an option for a while. Her brain had other plans for her night, apparently, and for once, she really didn't care.

She slowly began to think about what she had remembered earlier that day. The idea of a father type felt strange to her. The idea of adoring someone like she apparently did just made her uneasy. At the same time, she felt a pang of sadness. She couldn't even remember who her parents were. Where did her traits come from? Was there still someone out there walking around with her eyes? What about her hair? Her cheek bones? Where did she come from? Did they pass along some super healing gene or something?

And who was that man she punched? She obviously had cared very deeply for him, but in what way? Was he her brother? No, it hadn't felt like that. Did she have a brother? What about a sister? Arria rolled onto her back and watched the stars until her mind allowed her to fall asleep.

However, when she woke the next morning, she found she was probably better off staying awake all night. All night long, she had dreamt of a woman hanging limp from a cross, a man being set on fire, and her own near death experience. Over...and over…and over again. By the time she came to consciousness, she had to untangle herself from her bed roll. Good thing nothing had attacked her during the night, or she would have been screwed.

Arria munched on some left over gecko steak as she walked the rest of the way to the Mojave Outpost, her 10mm on her hip just in case. She finished the last bite just as she walked up to the massive statue of two men shaking hands. Her gaze traveled up and down the figures before moving on. For some reason, she felt increasingly uneasy with every step.

Soldiers watched her with quick eyes, feeding offf her anxiety. She tried to write off her ill feelings as not being used to being around so many people, but something deeper told her otherwise. She walked into the nearest building she could, hoping she'd get it right on the first try.

"Caravan, citizen, or…?" asked the man from behind a desk.

"Courier," she stated simply. He nodded and wrote down her answer.

"Just need something for the log book, keeping tabs on traffic through the Outpost…although mostly just in, not out these days," he droned wearily. She felt a pang of pity for the poor guy, stuck in an office all day having to deal with mostly irate people. She shuddered at the thought. He then went on a brief over view of things she needed to know, including where the commanding officer was and where to get repairs done. She waited patiently through his speech.

"I'd actually like to talk to you about Primm, if I could."

He tilted his head in surprise. "Primm? Hayes' unit is stationed up there; we're having some problems with NCRCF convicts. What can I help you with?"

"I've actually helped you all out over there. I've cleared out the Powder Gangers and found a possible new sheriff. There is just one hitch, though. The man in question was actually a prisoner at NCRCF and is looking for a pardon so he can assume the role sheriff."

Major Knight looked at her as if she had spoken a different language. "One of the Powder Gangers? They've been nothing but trouble for us; why would we want one of them anywhere near an official capacity?"

"Well, for one, his sentence was almost up when all of this trouble started. I actually found him in the prison just waiting for the NCR to take back control. And, he was never involved with any kind of Powder Ganger activity."

Major Knight crossed his arms and scowled as he thought over her words. After about a minute, he started nodding. "All right. If his sentence was closing up, I can see about getting him pardoned," he agreed. She could have hugged him. Instead, she settled for her best attempt at a winning smile. He seemed to be caught off guard at first, but then smiled in return.

After she had finished with him, she headed over to the other building, hoping for some kind of mess hall. She was practically dying of thirst, and she wanted something colder than what she had. What she found was a skeptical looking bar. Soldiers were littered throughout the room, while a red-headed woman drank her sorrows away at the bar. Arria sat a few seats away from her and ordered water. She could smell the other woman's alcohol from her seat, and she wrinkled her nose.

The smell continued to waft her way as she drank her water. Arria began to wonder if she could get a contact buzz by sitting so close because her vision suddenly started to get fuzzy. Images of bon fires and people dancing clouded her vision, and the sound of a primal music pervaded her ears. Another memory had begun to take hold of her.

"Are you deaf or what?" A loud voice broke her revere, and she shook her head, scowling.

"I'm sorry, but what did you say?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

"I said "looking for trouble?'" Arria shook her head, perplexed. Maybe she had been staring in the woman's direction.

"Only looking around." Awkward.

"Well keep those eyes up and turning- or I'll set them spinning!" she slurred. "Got not time for gawkers…or anyone looking for something I ain't selling."

"Are you alright?" she asked, mostly because of social pressures to care. It appeared as if she wanted someone to talk to. Anyone with an ear probably would have been perfect. Arria began to wonder how many times the bartender had heard this rant.

"Alright?" she squawked. "No I ain't alright. Drinking to forget, and it's only making me mad instead. Whiskey always gets my temper up-now more than ever. Drinking used to cause all sorts of problems back West- before I punched enough people, that is, and they learned to lay low when the whiskey hit."

The woman took another shot, and Arria drummed her fingers on the counter. "What are you trying to forget?" The bartender shook her head while she wiped a glass.

"Lost my caravan heading north, the driver burned to ash- and they didn't even take the goddamned cargo. They just burnt that, too."

Arria's eyebrows contracted with thought. "Hmmm. Doesn't sound like raiders," she mused.

"My guess is Legion; they're trying to cut NCR's supply line…and the Mojave Outpost is proof. Got us locked up tighter than a New Vegas virgin."

Arria choked on her water and chuckled appreciatively. The red head smirked in her direction. "Well, anyways, if you come looking for work, I'd suggest talking to the washed-up old fuck up Jackson or the sniper on the roof, Ghost. Hell, if you're willing to hoof it, go check out the Crimson Caravan, south of New Vegas. They'll set you up real nice." And with that the woman slumped against the bar. Arria hadn't even got her name.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! I've re-written/edited some of the earlier chapters. Definitely worth a look. Anyways, this chapter did NOT turn out like I wanted. Sometimes I wonder if the characters have pens of their own. Thanks for reading guys. Reviews are greatly appreciated!

* * *

A few days later, Arria was practically skipping on her way to Nipton. After she had counted her caps, she had decided to take the woman's advice to ask for work, despite every fiber of her being screaming to continue on her way. It took hardly any time to take care of ranger Jackson's work and inform Meyers of his new position as sheriff. All that was needed from her now was to check out Nipton for Ghost, which was right where she was headed anyways.

The road was horribly cracked and littered with rusted shells of vehicles, scorched and empty like the Mojave. Instead of weaving around them like a drunk, she jumped the ones she could and climbed the others. She was in such high spirits that she didn't care that she was probably wasting valuable energy. It also kept her mind from wondering to more dangerous parts of her psyche. As she scrambled to the top of a bus, she glanced at her Pipboy. Still a way to go. She flipped off the roof and landed gracefully on her feet, grinning.

Everything physical was coming back to her quicker than her mental faculties. She was beginning to need only one shot with radscorpions, and her feet were more sure and confident. She didn't have to think about aiming anymore, and her lightness of foot surprised even Ghost. Even her eyesight became sharper. She just _felt_ all around stronger.

However, as her physical capabilities flooded back, she became more and more convinced that she must have been in a profession more dangerous than a simple courier. She found herself subconsciously categorizing people by threat level whenever she walked into a room. Even when she was in discussion with someone, her senses would be taking stock of what everyone else was doing. She even started sensing people before they walked into a room, or having some sense of what someone was going to say before they opened their mouth. It was a bit unnerving. The only time it seemed to be considered void was when a memory forcibly took over her senses.

When she cleared the cars, she began to watch further out on the horizon. Some horrible thing was bound to take the place of the last batch of cleared out mutated insects on this stretch of road. Whether it was going to happen sooner rather than later was hard to guess. Better safe than sorry.

Sure enough, just as the sun cleared the distant mountains and she had to curve with the road, a sandstorm kicked up, and giant ants could be seen hulking around. She took care of any that came near without a change in direction or delay. She fought the urge to go further in and taking care of the rest, arguing only that she already had a mission.

The only time she did stop was to survey a group of Jackals that had camped out in a run-down building about half way to Nipton. The only viable option was to kill if they attacked. She didn't want to sneak by them on the way to Nipton then have to deal with them on her way back. So, she kept walking. Fifteen minutes later, she had looted their bodies and left them there to rot.

By the time Arria actually made it within view of Nipton, something inside her was screaming for her to turn around and forget it. Every step she took closer became a struggle. Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she was sure who ever was in town could hear her coming. She balled up her fists and forced herself to move. She had a mission, goddamn it! Her stomach churned uneasily at the smell of burning flesh and rubber, in spite of her bravado.

As she came up to the entrance to the burning town, she stopped dead in her tracks. Crimson red flags adorned with rearing bulls flapped in the wind proclaiming, she could only assume, Legion. At least, that's what the people of Goodsprings had told her when she had asked for info. The flags seemed to slow down before her eyes and almost travel back in time. The edges of her vision turned yellow, almost the same color of a vintage picture.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her up and spun her around. "Yeah! WHO WON THE LOTTERY!? I DID!"

She struck his collar-bone hard enough to splinter it, and he let her go. The man was still smiling, though. She grabbed her 10mm and aimed for his right eye.

"Smell that air. Couldn't you just drink it like booze?" he exclaimed, giggling manically.

She narrowed her eyes. "Are you a little touched in the head? I could have killed you!" He stood in front of her, breathing deeply and looking around appreciatively. "Are you ok?"

"Are you kidding me? Never felt better!" She lowered her gun, eyeing him apprehensively. He wore the unmistakable garb of a Powder Ganger.

"What lottery did you win?" He looked at her as if she were an idiot. What was with people and looking at her weird?

"What lottery?" he repeated incredulously. "_The _lottery! Are you stupid? Only lottery that matters. Oh my God smell that air!"

She didn't know what he was talking about. The air hung with the smell of death, with a hint of carnage. He ran off to celebrate before she could say anything else. She lifted her gun again and aimed for the middle of his retreating back. _Easy target_, a voice hissed in her head. _Take the shot. _Her finger tightened on the trigger. _He called you stupid._ She shook her head, and holstered her gun. There was no use wasting her ammo. He'd get his.

She moved slowly forward, forcing one foot in front of the other. She stopped when she reached the first man hanging from a cross. Momentarily, he was replaced by a woman hanging limply. Her long brown hair flowed gently in the wind while blood and tears rolled slowly down her face; her lips cracked from dehydration. Arria blinked and the woman began to disappear. As the woman faded from her vision, it dawned on her that she didn't want to be on the ground anymore. Quickly she scrambled onto the roof of the closest buildings. She jumped from roof to roof until she was as close as she could get to the Town Hall. She pulled a pair of binoculars out from her pack and brought them slowly to her eyes, dreading what she would see.

Fires burned bright below, littered with bones and sizzling flesh. Two dogs fought over a femur, while men in red watched on. Another group centered around a man who wore the head of a dog and sunglasses. She focused on his face, drawn in by his high cheek bones and thin lips. Something familiar blossomed deep within her stomach, but she shook it off. He seemed to be giving a speech, the sound of his voice reaching her ears, just not the words. His men smirked with righteous pride. All around them was desolation. They sure knew how to ruin a town.

Suddenly, dog-headed-man raised his hands and all his men cheered. He looked over them, his lips quirked up in a devilish grin. He did a double take as he looked in her direction, and she hid quickly, her heart a drum in her chest. Her breaths came in quick succession until she grew dizzy. The most unsettling feeling of familiarity flooded through her again. She shook it off, not willing to deal with it yet. She fought the urge to take another look, her blood singing in her veins.

After a few minutes, she heard them stomp their way out of the town, jeering at the men hanging from posts. The sound of shattering windows and breaking wood were the last things she heard from the infamous legion. She didn't know how long she sat there before she picked up on the faintest sound of scratching. It seemed to be getting closer. Suddenly, dog ears appeared over the top of the ledge farthest from her. She stared in disbelief, and she quickly un-holstered her gun. Dog ears were followed by sunglasses until finally dog-headed-man stood before her.

He lowered his sunglasses as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His clear, blue eyes swept over her, leaving her paralyzed. Confusing feelings swam inside her. They stared at each other until he kneeled down in front of her and held out a hand.

"I won't hurt you," he whispered, his voice a call to her primal side. His eyes softened, and he smiled at her. Her stomach tightened nervously, and her pulse picked up.

"Who are you?" she panted. Her vision glitched back to a previous time, momentarily giving her a glimpse of a younger version of him. Both images looked distraught. He quickly recovered himself, and stood back up. She inhaled quickly as pain surged through her head. Suddenly, she knew. Oh god did she know. "Vulpes," she gasped.

"What happened to you?" he asked, coming back down to her level. His hands reached for her face, turning it so he could see her bullet scar. His touch was soft and his skin so very warm. She jerked from his grasp and shot up to give herself some space. Was this what hyperventilating felt like? Was she going to pass out? She felt dizzy again. "Easy, Arria. Take it easy," he crooned, as he put his hands on her shoulders. She flinched under his touch.

"I can't do this," she whispered as she vaulted over the edge, running as soon as she hit the ground. Vaguely, she registered that he was calling her name, but she kept running.


	8. Chapter 8

"Legion," she panted, her hands on her knees. "Legion in Nipton. Everyone…dead."

Ghost looked as if she had slapped her. "Legion? This far west? You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Arria shook her head. God, she wished she was. Her heart hurt it was pumping so fast.

Ghost continued, more to herself. "That's not outside the border, they're moving in-and fast. Nipton wasn't the friendliest town, but…" If it was possible, Ghost got whiter with every word. "All right- thanks for checking on that, wish it set my mind at ease, now I'm more on edge than ever."

She wanted to apologize for being the bearer of bad news, but she just didn't have it in her. She really didn't care. There was enough for her to worry about without worrying about Ghost's emotional status. She just nodded.

Ghost sighed. "Well, thanks for hoofin' it there and back, even if it was bad news. Wish we could spare the troops to go hunting but…orders are to stay put. Your payment's on the table."

Arria grabbed the little bag of caps and ran to the bar. She hated alcohol, but she needed to not feel or think for a little while.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Cass slurred. It was nearly dark outside, and Cass looked almost drunk enough to hit the sack. Arria envied her. She now knew what Cass meant about drinking to forget. She covered her face with her hands.

"A double of whatever's strongest here, please," she moaned from between her fingers. She heard Cass move closer.

"You okay?" Arria smelled the whiskey on her breath.

"Just came from Nipton. Legion razed the place to the ground…bodies everywhere. It was…horrible," she said, downing the shot and tapping for another. His eyes burned into her whenever she closed hers. She shuddered. What was their connection? Why was he so concerned about her? From what she had heard about the Legion, they didn't give two shits about women.

"Oh," Cass said, quietly. For once she didn't have too much to say, and Arria was grateful. She didn't want to talk. She wanted to drink until she was ok. And that's just what she did.

The next morning, she felt worse than before. She woke up in a bunk, not remembering how she even got there. Afternoon sunlight lit up her face and blinded her. Everything was either too bright or too loud, sometimes both. With a hiss, she covered her face with a pillow to get a little peace. She was never going to drink that much ever again.

_His_ face bloomed behind her eyelids. How did she know him? Why did she react to him so violently? Her head swam with so many confusing thoughts. She wanted to throw up. No. Wait. She actually did have to throw up. She barely made it to the bathroom before she emptied the contents of her stomach. She was definitely never drinking ever again.

"Hey, light weight," a raspy voice greeted as she walked toward the bar. She looked up to find Cass already sitting there. Arria sat beside her. She felt closer to her somehow.

"I'm never drinking again," she moaned, accepting a bottle of water from the bartender with a half-smile.

Beside her, Cass chuckled. "Here, take one of these. They always help when I have a hang-over." She passed her two small, white pills. Arria eyed them curiously. However, something in her screamed for her to dash them from her sight. She shook her head.

"Thanks, Cass. I appreciate it. But, I brought this on myself," she sighed, pushing them away. Cass shrugged and pocketed them.

"So, when are you heading out again?"

Arria shuddered. He was still out there-him and her memories. But then again, so was the man who shot her. Decisions, decisions.

"Right now, I guess," she sighed as she pushed herself from the bar. "See you later, Cass." And without another word to anyone she left.

Her trip through the car field this time did not include any kind of climbing or any kind of frivolity. Instead, she was constantly vigilant, shooting down anything that moved. _Who needs a therapist when you have a gun? _

By the time she reached Nipton, she was almost terrified to walk past it. What if he was still there-lurking, waiting to spring more memories on her? Curiosity got the better of her, and she slowly crept down the main road of the desolate little town. She stopped about half way and closed her eyes. She let all the sounds flow through her, filtering for any signs of him. The only things she heard were the gasping breaths of the men hanging and the crackle of still burning fires.

After a few minutes, she knew it was safe, and he was long gone. She released a breath she didn't even know she had been holding and smiled. Her glee turned into mercy in the form of releasing the poor souls latched to the crosses. "Thank you," the last one gasped before the sound of her gun reverberated in the dead city.

Her steps fell lightly on the cracked and broken road on her way to Novac. Her feelings of glee and mercy evaporated as the sun rose higher in the sky and her thoughts turned to her past. Logically speaking, Vulpes knowing her meant she was probably, in some way, attached to the Legion. Had she been a slave that had escaped? Not a completely unheard of theory. It would explain her aversion to anything sporting crimson and her mixed up feelings about Vulpes. Maybe she had been his slave?

She pondered her possible past as she meticulously took out everything that moved. One thing she knew for sure was that she had to get control of herself. Her reaction to him was unacceptable. Emotional responses in general had to stop; they were a show of weakness on her part. She paused to quickly reload when a confusing thought hit her. Had she and Vulpes…no. No. No. No. No. No. NO. She was not going to let that even be a possibility. She shook her head and continued on, annoyed by even the thought.

In the distance, a massive shape appeared on the horizon, which she assumed was the dinosaur the soldiers had mentioned before she had left. She sighed; it was still so far away. Even though she was shaded from the sun's harsher rays by the ridge next to her, she still felt hotter than a Gomorrah prostitute in a clinic. She wiped the sweat from her brow and continued on. She could rest when she's dead…really dead, that is. Her canteen swished happily as she quickly took a sip.

Twenty minutes later, she waltzed into Novac no worse for wear just as the sun had completely set. She scanned the people of this small town, simultaneously trying to decide who would have info and who would be a threat. Everyone regarded her with suspicion and a hint of fear. She ducked into the nearest building to avoid their glares.

"Well, hello there! You look plum worn out! Do you need a room or somethin' to eat darlin'? What can I do for you today?" a woman behind the desk babbled. Her glasses were big and made her look uncommonly like an owl. Her voice grated on Arria's nerves, but she plastered on a wide smile and lifted her sunglasses instead of glaring.

"Why, we haven't even been properly introduced yet. I'm Arria Tamarisk. And you are?" she smiled, her voice bright a bubbly. She wanted to gag.

"Oh, dear. Look at me. I was so worried about making a good impression, I forgot my manners. I'm Jeannie May Crawford, and I run the Dino Dee-Lite motel here in Novac."

"Nice to meet you Ms. Jeannie," she murmured, as kindly as she could.

"Now that we're properly acquainted, what can I do ya for?"

Arria smiled sweetly. "A room and some information, if you are so inclined."

Jeannie May raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What kind of information, dear?"

These cute little nicknames irritated her to no end, but she continued to play nice. She would do anything she needed to get the info she needed. "I'm looking for a man who came through here maybe a few days ago. He's wearing a black and white checkered suit. Going around with a couple Great Khans. Have you seen him by any chance?"

The older woman's lips turned up into a look of distain. Oh, yeah. She had met him. It was almost a little comical. He even had that effect on people who he didn't shoot in the head. "He may have been wearing a suit, but he was by no means a gentleman to me. Had his nose stuck so far up, she could see over the clouds. City people. But, thankfully, I didn't have to deal with him much. Then men he was with, however, stopped and talked to our sniper up in the sniper nest. They seemed on friendly enough terms."

Arria rolled her tongue over her teeth. Of course they were. "What's the sniper's name?"

"Manny Vargas. He's only up there during the day, though," Jeannie smiled, obviously proud of her town's protection plan. "Boone will be up there; he's our night sniper. Both are First Recon." Message received, Ms. Crawford. Maybe Boone would know something. She nodded her thanks to the older woman, paid for the room, and readjusted her pack before she left.

Her room was the one closest to the lobby on the top floor. One sweep of the room left Arria less than impressed. It was nearly bare, the few pieces of furniture it did have were drab and showed the wear and tear of centuries. The carpet looked like a dried murder scene, big spots of what she assumed was blood littered the floor. The walls looked as if she'd catch something if she rubbed against them. She shuddered. She'd rather sleep on the roof.

Arria took a very quick shower, rushed to get dressed, and bolted out of that suffocating room. She leaned against the rail, grateful for fresh air. At least the water had been warm. With that not exactly comforting thought, she started toward Dinky and the night sniper.

As soon as she opened the door she had to dodge the butt of a rifle aimed straight for her head. It slammed against the door, and she quickly tried to sweep her attackers legs out from under him, only to be shoved against the wall forcefully. She kneed him in the ribs, and he put his arm on her windpipe with a low grunt. She grabbed his wrist, turned him around, and flung him from her, pulling out her gun. They eyed each other wearily.

His eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses, but she could see that they were trained on her, watching her every move. They lowered their guns at the same time, the muscles in his arm rippling with the effort of not shooting her. His face was definitely a man's face, all angles and hard lines. His lips were pressed into a deep frown, and his nostrils flared with every breath. He was well-built and angry, a dangerous combination. She eyed him as a potential threat, categorizing any and every weakness she saw in case he decided on round two.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked, his voice gruff from lack of use. She cocked her head.

"I hadn't been beaten up in about a week, and I was starting to get bored," she growled, her voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes narrowed, and he scowled at her.

"I think you had better leave," he said, his voice an indifferent monotone. She threw a questioning glare his way, but he turned his back to her.

"Do you treat everyone like this, or is this special treatment because I could have won?" she asked, trying to get a reaction out of him. Even fighting was better than nothing. At least if he was fighting, there was a spark of something inside of him. His sudden indifference worried her slightly. He ignored her and shot at a stray radscorpion.

"Okay. Fine. I'm going. But could I just ask you one question?" she asked. Something in her voice must have caught his attention. He looked over his shoulder and waited. "Do you know where a man in a checkered suit went? He came here a few days ago with a couple of Khans. They had come to see the day sniper, Manny. Did he say anything to you?"

"No," he grunted and turned back around.

"Fine," she sighed and left. No point in poking the yougui.


	9. Chapter 9

Arria stomped back to her room, muttering about rock headed snipers with no conversational skills. She took one step inside and stopped. Everything felt far too close and stuffy. A few minutes later, she found herself on top of the roof, laying down and watching the stars. She took a gratefully deep breath and snuggled up to her sniper rifle before falling into a troubled and unsatisfying sleep.

Vulpes danced in and out of her dreams. Sometimes he was glaring at her, his countenance scarily angry. Other times, he was smirking and kind. At one point, he sprawled himself out on a bed roll, his hair messy and his arms reaching out to her. Not matter what came up his blue eyes were always on her. Always watching, appraising, and undressing. He enchanted via her dreams. Eventually, he pulled her down, capturing her in his arms, never to let her go.

She jerked awake as the sun rose, aching inside and slightly uncomfortable. She took a second to slow her breathing, hoping to whatever was watching over her that those were just dreams, not memories. She couldn't stand herself if Vulpes had actually touched her like that. _But why?_ _What has he ever done to you? Sure, he burned down a whole town, but who's to say they didn't deserve it?_ She shook those thoughts away, glaring at nothing in particular.

Arria sat up and brought her knees to her chest. She took a deep breath to clear her mind. The sound of a door slamming caused her to whirl around to watch the night sniper step out from the belly of the dinosaur. He stepped out, stretched, and looked around.

* * *

What is she doing on the roof? Boon wondered, catching the woman's eye. He nodded for her to follow him as he walked to his room. He had to talk to her, and he didn't want everyone over hearing. As if to prove his point, Jeannie watched their exchange like a hawk. She even quirked an eyebrow at him as the woman scrambled awkwardly into his room.

"Glutton for punishment?" she asked, bringing herself to full height. Boone looked at her. He had thought long and hard all night about this very strange woman. She might be useful. She looked calm and collected, the only thing giving her away were her balled up fists. She was poised and ready to fight if need be. Perfect.

"You're new here," he grunted, not used to talking. Not anymore.

She looked at him as if he were slow. "You're going somewhere with this, right?"

He rolled his eyes. This woman was infuriating. "Yes."

"Okay, then, go on."

"I need someone I can trust. You're new here. That's a start."

Her face flitted with confusion, but she hid it well. Her blue eyes flashed suddenly with understanding. "What do you need?"

No in-depth questions. He liked that. "I want you to find something out for me. I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try." She was nodding as if she already understood. He swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. "My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I don't know who."

"Any leads?"

"No. Just want the son of a bitch who sold her."

"What do I do I do when I find them?"

"Bring them out in front of the nest here while I'm on duty. I work nights. I'll give you my NCR beret to put on. It'll be our signal, so I know you're standing with them. And I'll take care of the rest. I need to do this myself." Boone waited for her to make any kind of show that she had heard him. She chewed her lip. Seconds ticked by. Finally she nodded.

"Alright."

He handed her his beret, their hands grazing. She held it gently, running her thumb over the emblem. Her eyes softened when she looked at him again. All he wanted was for her to leave. Now. She seemed to read his thoughts, making her way to the door.

"Oh. And we probably shouldn't talk until this is all over," he said as she opened the door. She looked back, tucked his beret into her back pocket, and smirked at him.

"I'll try to resist." And with that she was gone.

* * *

Arria walked all over that stupid little town asking every single person she could find about Carla Boone. She had almost told Boone to shove his mission where it ought to go, but something in the way he craved revenge sparked something in her. She could relate with the all-consuming need of the blood of an enemy. Besides, if she could get someone to talk, she'd get this done by that very night.

If only the silly little people would fucking work with her. But whenever Carla was even mentioned they would shuffle their feet and get awkward. She wanted to scream…or run them through multiple times. Instead, she smiled charismatically and laughed at their stupid jokes and despaired sympathetically with their plights. She wanted to rip her hair out. She wanted to rip their hair out. Finally, she got a lead, and it was just who she was hoping it was.

That night she broke into the lobby of the motel, and searched for any evidence that would prove that Jeannie May Crawford was not as nice as she pretended to be. As soon as Boone had mentioned his mission, she had hoped it was Jeannie May. Her voice irritated her. And something just didn't sit well with her after their meeting.

After searching everything from the filing desk to the back of the toilet, Arria was positively gleeful to find a floor vault. This had to be her jackpot. She picked the lock with flare, and proceeded to quickly rifle through. Her hand clasped a worn and yellowed piece of paper. Guilt just seemed to radiate off of it. As she read through, she suddenly understood why. Carla was _pregnant_? Boone hadn't mentioned that. All the glee from finally finding the safe quickly deflated. Whatever Boone did to this bitch, Arria was going to enjoy. She scooped the caps from the vault and left.

Five minutes later, she banged on Jeannie's door frantically. She had mussed up her hair and rubbed a bit of dirt on her face to make it seem more urgent.

"Oh my God! Jeannie, please come with me. You have to see this. Please come with me!" she cried hysterically, collapsing into the woman's arms pretending to be weak kneed. Jeannie ran beside her, constantly asking what had gotten her so upset. When they got within sight of Boone's rifle, she turned around calmly, pulling on his beret. Jeannie was looking around trying to find what Arria had been freaking out about.

"What's wrong, dear? I don't see anything! What did you want to show me?"

Arria smirked. "The inside of your head." And with that, Jeannie May Crawford's head exploded, showering Arria with viscera. She serenely wiped a smatter of brain from underneath her eye and walked to the waiting sniper.

* * *

She looked a gruesome mess, blood and brain matter splashed against her. However, she seemed almost comfortable, as if that were an everyday occurrence. He shook his head, getting down to the important dealings.

"How did you know?"

She silently pulled out a note and handed it to him. His breath caught in his throat. "It would be like them to keep something like this," he murmured to himself as he crumpled the evil little paper up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shift uncomfortably. He looked at her. "Thanks. Here, this is all I have. Take it." He threw his bag full of caps at her and turned away. He heard her move closer and felt his beret slip carefully into place. He twisted back to her. She smelled like blood, dust, and cactus flower all rolled into one, and she was assessing him up close.

"What are you going to do now?"

He shrugged and took a step back, mildly uncomfortable with her proximity. "I don't know. Probably wander like you. Kill Legion."

She nodded, her hands fiddling with the bag of caps. Suddenly, she handed them back. "I don't need these. But there is something I do need."

* * *

Arria watched as his eyebrows knotted into a scowl. Was she really about to propose this? Might as well try.

"What?"

"I'm on a revenge mission of my own," she started, pulling her hair back so he could see her scar. "If you come with me and help me on mine, I'll help you kill as many Legionaries as I can." Her mind instantly brought Vulpes' familiar face before her eyes. She refused to acknowledge it.

"No." was his monosyllable answer. It was a quick one, too.

"You're a sniper, right?"

It was his turn to consider her intelligence. "You're going somewhere with this, right?" he mocked her. She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

"A sniper by himself won't last too long. I'll be your spotter. We'll kill more this way," she argued.

"You can snipe?"

She pulled out her rifle. The skepticism in his voice pissed her off. "Give me a target. Anything."

Ten minutes later, she had proved her point and was waiting patiently for him to make up his mind. Finally, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, as if he was going to regret what he was about to say. "Fine, but this won't end well."

"Perfect. We'll leave tomorrow." And with that she left, leaving Boone to wonder if he had made the right choice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: **A big thanks to everyone who has read this, followed it, and reviewed it! It means sooo much to me! Sorry I've been slow with this update. School and work and blah blah blah. Well, here it is! Hope you like it! Keep reading :)

* * *

Vulpes knew he should have moved on. Delivered his report straight to Caesar and then tracked her. But, it was Arria. He hadn't seen nor heard anything from her in nearly three years. She plagued his every thought, directly or indirectly. Seeing her again sent him screaming back to a different time. A time when he knew the passion and warmth of a real woman, not the cold ones that flitted in and out of his bed.

He watched her walk into Novac, her head held high and her hips swaying unconsciously. She had never been aware of her beauty, her sexual aura. Seemed like she still wasn't. He could never forget. Indeed, every tryst he had since she left could never measure up. He watched her eyes quickly scan every person, assessing for threat level. She hadn't changed.

As soon as she was out of sight, he moved forward. He wanted to grasp her, pull her close, and never let her go. But he knew better. She would destroy him in an instant. It was in her nature. She was unattainable perfection, so tough you could never get close and yet so fragile she'd break if you did. His blood sang out to her.

He stopped moving. Hadn't he learned his lesson when she left? Yes, he had. It was a harsh lesson that rang with him even today. Some days he felt grateful that she had left. He never would have risen in the ranks if she had stayed to distract him. He wouldn't be the man he was today if she had married him. He scoffed at himself. A leader in the great Caesar's Legion, undone by a woman. He turned toward the south, intent on giving Caesar the report he was waiting for.

But when he heard a door close behind him, he stopped. As strong as he had become in the past three years, he would never be strong enough to shrug her off. She would be his death. He turned to watch her enter her room.

She came out some time later, damp and scrubbed pink. Her face was set in a scowl he knew to be determination as she walked into the belly of the giant lizard. He scrambled closer. He heard the sounds of a heated scuffle and instantly pitied whoever tried to take her on. They would not last if she did not want them to. She surprised him, however, when she came back out, not covered in blood. She sashayed herself up to her room in an agitated manner then quickly back out. He smirked when she ended up on the roof. She hadn't changed at all. If ever he needed to find her, he simply had to climb the highest place in Cottonwood Cove and he'd find her with her knees pulled to her chest. It was her safe spot, a place she could fly.

Once she was in a deep enough sleep, he quietly scrambled over to her. His eyes flew over her, making sure she was okay. The scar at the base of her head worried him. What had happened? What had she gotten herself into? She mumbled something as she tossed violently. He leaned closer. "Vulpes," she groaned, her face contorted in angst. His heart lifted. This would hold him over until next time. With that, he left.

* * *

Boone watched as the mysterious woman put everything in her pack. She bordered on compulsive. She glanced up at him. "What?" Her blue eyes were cold and outlined by barely there circles.

"Are we almost ready to go?" he asked. The roof was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. Not nearly enough coverage.

She snapped her pack close and stood to level him with a glare. "Let's go. I just have to get some info. Forgot to do it yesterday." With that, she scrambled off the roof and toward the dinosaur. Boone stopped half way there.

"What do you need in there?"

"I still need to talk to Manny. Hey, maybe you could put in a good word for me? He'd probably talk easier with you around."

He snorted. "Doubtful. I'll wait here." He leaned against the big lizard and pulled out a cigarette. She glared at him for a quick second then shrugged.

"Suit yourself. I'll be right back out." Boy was she right. She came back out far too quickly, fuming. He hadn't even smoked half his cigarette. Anger seemed to be a routine setting for this chick.

"What happened?"

She snarled. "Which room is his?" Boone pointed to a room two doors down from his. She stomped over there, her hair flaring out behind her.

"I'm sick and tired of people giving me the fucking run around," she growled as she kicked the door in. He did a double take. Were her eyes just black? He didn't have time to wonder. She stormed in, ripping everything apart. She didn't lose steam as she ransacked, only appearing to get more frustrated.

"I've been fucking shot. I want that motherfucker's blood. But everyone sees this as an opportunity to get something out of me. I am NOONE'S dancing bear. If he had just given me the info that I fucking needed and then asked me to help him out, I wouldn't be doing this. FUCK!" she yelled. Her hair seemed to get more out of control the angrier she got. Boone just watched her, torn between apprehension and amusement. He was all for a party if it involved trashing Manny's place.

Arria slowed as she came to a computer. Would he be dumb enough to put this in writing? God she hoped so.

She punched the sky and whooped in victory. He _was_ dumb enough. He had made a detail entry about how he had let some of his old gang members stay with him and where they were going. "Get ready, Boone. We're heading to Boulder City."

"Just so you know, you're scary when you're happy," Boon mumbled as he followed her out of the tornado zone that was Manny's room. She cackled, elation coursing through her veins.

Arria looked at her Pipboy, fiddled with a few nobs, and then started walking down the road leading out of Novac. She picked up her pace, Boone keeping a good distance away. If they moved quickly enough, they could be in Boulder City a little after noon. She hoped the rat bastard who shot her was still there. She wanted this over with fast.

Boone made a forced effort to watch anything other than…wait what was her name? He was so distracted that he didn't even care that he didn't know her name. Every time he looked at the woman, he would notice little things, like how she jiggled in all the right spots when she walked, how her hair flowed behind her, or how she carried herself with all the confidence in the world. How long had it been since he even looked at another woman? His brain instantly pulled up his wife's face. Her memory was never very far off. Neither was the guilt.

"So, what's your name?" he grunted, anything to not think about Carla.

She looked at him without slowing down. "Arria. It must have slipped my mind to introduce myself when you were trying to smash my head in," she said, matter-of-factly. She didn't sound upset or angry. It was almost as if she had already shrugged it off. Good. He wasn't going to apologize. He'd do it again if she snuck up on him.

A very silent hour passed before they slowed. Smoke rose from a little gas station in front of them. Her first thought was Legion, but she knew better. It was far too small to be them. Probably just raiders. Either way, she could take them. Boone took aim and fired before she could even get out her rifle. She picked two off with methodical precision. She had the last one in her sights when her gun jammed. He was practically on her; she could almost feel the wind off of his last wild swing. She threw her weapon aside and took up a fighting stance.

He swung for her head; she ducked and punched him as hard as she could in the side. She felt bones break. The raider stumbled back, only slightly put off. He came at her again. She aimed high, kicking his head so far back she heard his spine snap. He dropped hard, never to get up again. She calmly began to loot his body. Arria stood back up to find Boone watching her.

"What?" she asked as she put away the few caps and stimpacks she had found.

"Where did you learn that?"

"Self-defense?" she asked. "I don't know." No need to elaborate, not that she could if she had even wanted to. She continued on after she picked up her gun, not waiting for Boone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note:** AHHHH! Two chapters in such short time. I just couldn't stop writing, and this chapter just kept getting more and more interesting.

* * *

As the sun rose to its highest point, Arria and Boone reached Boulder City. Just the idea of revenge caused her pulse to race and adrenalin to thunder in her ears. God, she wanted this. She craved to tie him up, wave a gun in front of his face, and shot him. She held back a chuckle. Sounded a little kinky.

They made their way over to a big slab of stone that had names plastered all over it. There, a young man joined them, his garb proclaiming NCR soldier. He gazed upon the hunk of rock with a pained expression, his hands wrapped in the chain of a pair of dog tags. His eyes remained glued to a single spot even as Arria moved closer. Despite her best effort otherwise, she felt a twinge of empathy.

"Did you come to pay your respects as well?" the soldier asked, his voice wavering slightly. Boone looked away; he was never good with emotion. Arria just stared blankly at the man. Respects?

"Huh. Not exactly." Eloquent.

"My brother fought and died here at Boulder City during the Battle of Hoover Dam. He sacrificed himself so they could evacuate the injured. This is a memorial to men like him. That's his name right there," he explained as he pointed to a name right in the middle. PFC Donald Kowalski. Arria didn't know how to deal with his grief. She had a feeling that even if she still had all her memory she still wouldn't know how to deal with it. He saved her the effort.

"So what are you here for? Not much here besides ghosts."

"Actually, we're looking for one ghost in particular."

Kowalski pointed them in the direction of an agitated man. She thanked him, and he watched her walk away as if she were crazy to be thankful for what she was about to walk into.

"We've got a situation with some Great Khans right now. The brass at McCarran has ordered me to lock down the ruins until it's been resolved," said the man who stopped her. Arria took a step back, surprised by this. She just wanted to kill one little scum bag. Couldn't he just let her through? She was so close.

"Really? They have something of mine! I need to get through," she sighed, her eyes darting to the metal sheets that paraded as a door. She could just run past him. He couldn't catch her.

"Yeah, well they have hostages in there. We're not going to risk another person getting captured." He stood firmly in front of her. She snorted. They caught her once on luck. They wouldn't be so lucky another time.

"I may be able to negotiate something with them," she said, attempting to sound persuasive instead of desperate.

He eyed her. "Normally, I'd turn you down because I have no idea who you are," _Join the club._ "but, considering that the hostages are as good as dead when we attack…" _Come on._ "All right, I'm going to give you the chance to talk to the Great Khans. Their leader's name is Jessup. If we hear shooting, we'll be coming in, but it'll probably be too late for you." Arria fought the urge to smile. Instead, she nodded, her face a grim mask.

Boone stepped in front of her before she took another step closer. "Are you crazy?"

She couldn't fight it anymore; she smiled. "As crazy as they come, apparently." She bypassed him. "You don't have to come. I can handle it on my own."

"Yeah because your experience with them went so well the first time," he growled, turning around to follow her. He stepped in front of her again, refusing to let her go first. With the squeal of the gate, they were in.

The ruins were exactly what Arria was expecting. Empty. From what she could remember, there weren't enough of them for a full patrol or any kind of wide range protection. They could have just strutted on in. Boone, however, obviously did not trust it. He slunk from shadow to shadow, the picture of stealth. She wondered if she'd give him a heart attack if she skipped though.

As they got closer, she noticed the presence of more guards. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a woman peek out from behind a doorway, gun in hand. She must have been the guard of the captives. Arria made a mental note for later. When they finally reached the door to the Khan's hide out, she forced herself in first; it was her fight.

The men behind the counter turned whiter than white. She sauntered in, grinning evilly. "Boo!" she murmured, slinking closer. Boone trained his gun on the closest one, just in case they got any ideas. She was making the sniper nervous with her proximity to the men that tried to kill her.

Finally, the man with the mohawk found his tongue. "What the hell?! You're that courier Benny wasted back in Goodsprings. You're supposed to be dead."

"Death didn't seem to suit me just yet."

"And here I thought us Khans were hard to kill. So, what happens now?"

She hopped up on the table. "Where's the Platinum Chip?"

He watched her nervously. "Don't have it." She hissed in response. He continued. "Benny stole it right before he stabbed us in the back. He's probably back at the Strip now, laughing at me."

She narrowed her eyes. "I would be," she growled. His eyes flashed with anger, only to be silenced with a single look. "I'm not done with you yet. What do you know about Benny?" She listened patiently as she got the low down from Jessup. A chairman at the Tops, huh? He wouldn't be able to get to easily.

"Ok. So where do we go from here? What are we going to do about your situation with the NCR?"

"What's to negotiate? The NCR backs off, we walk out of here. End of story."

She tutted. "You are such an optimist. For a Khan I'm surprised. But, you see. You poked the Bear. You stole two cubs. You think you're just going to walk out of here? If it were up to me, I would tie you up and shoot you. However, I believe in karma, so here's the deal. You're going to let go of the hostages, and then you're going to be escorted out of NCR territory. Sound like a deal?"

He had no other options, and he knew it. The crazy bitch with the wicked smile would kill them otherwise. It wasn't such a raw deal. At least they'd get to walk away. He even got to watch her walk out the door. He always had thought it was a shame to waste such a body. He was kind of glad she survived, at least if only for the view.

"Wait here. I'll go tell the NCR they have a deal," Arria said, sliding off the counter.

The Lieutenant had a sour look on his face. "Just got orders from the top brass. I have to kill the Khans…hostages or not."

Arria almost shrugged her shoulders and walked away. The only thing that stopped her was something she herself had said back there. _I believe in karma._ If she left them, it could come around and bite her in the ass later. So, she fought.

"You won't. Do you want to know why? It's because you have more integrity than that. You will honor the pact I made. Or you will forever be known as spineless. There are times when you follow superiors. This is not one of them. They are not here. They do not know the situation. You do. You make this call."

Sometime later she found herself scrambling over rubble one last time to tell the Khans they could leave. After she told Jessup, she went next door and stared down the girl from earlier. She looked like she was going to make a proud stand, her chin jutting out stubbornly. Arria silently dared her to do something as she untied the hostages. They ran past the Khan girl, and Arria smirked. She blew a kiss before she walked back toward the gate with her silent shadow, Boone.

"Thanks for the back-up, by the way," she said.

"Don't mention it," he grunted, sounding like he really didn't want his deeds repeated. "So, what next?"

Arria sighed, frustrated. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't get to Benny just yet, but she could make her time useful and repay a forced favor.

"We're going to have to go back to Novac," she sighed again. Boone cursed under his breath. Damn, who knew she had a conscience?

* * *

Manny glared at the pair of them. Arria had come clean and promised she'd clear out the RepCon test site as penance. She never actually said the word "sorry", though, because she really wasn't. There was just a constant nagging voice in the back of her head that wouldn't let her live it down. However, Manny didn't seem to be focused on her, his eyes glued on Boone.

"So, this is why you're leaving?" Manny questioned, motioning to Arria. She opened her mouth to defend her companion when Boone's eyes flashed.

"Nothing left here for me. Time to move on." And with that, he left Manny and the courier staring after him, stunned.

Manny glared at her, and Arria made a hasty retreat to try to catch up with her companion. She found him leaning up against Dinky, lighting a cigarette. She wrinkled her nose. The smoke reminded her of Benny.

"Hey," she said, leaning next to him. He shuffled away a little. "Today's been a long day, and the sun's setting. We'll stay here, get some sleep, and deal with RepCon tomorrow. Sound good?"

He grunted in response, exhaling his last drag. She took a step away. "Ok. Well, if you need me, you know where to find me." He watched her climb the stairs to her room. Hmm, so she was going to sleep inside tonight? He stood there, watching the day turn to night.

Inside, he dreaded stepping back into that room that he had shared with his wife…to lay down where they had conceived their child…to stand where they duked out their problems. God, he wished he had a strong drink, but he deserved this. He deserved every minute of it. Arria had been right about karma. It was taking its time with him, but it was coming. He sighed, his body near exhaustion. Maybe he would take a leaf out of Arria's book and sleep on the roof.

Instead, he found himself in front of her door, a war waging inside himself. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it soon. Manny was shooting him angry looks, and Boone was liable to hit him. He sighed and knocked. She came to the door, and Boone had to turn away. Of course she'd be in a goddamned towel. Now Manny was going to be really pissed.

Arria took one look at Boone and understood. He couldn't go back to his old room. He had too many memories there. How could she have not seen this coming? She moved aside, so he could walk in. He didn't look at her as he passed. Behind him, she saw Manny staring angrily. She almost flashed him to really give him something to look at. She restrained herself for Boone's sake.

Quietly, she placed a pillow and blanket on the couch for him and went to the bathroom to make Boone more comfortable. When she came back, she was fully dressed.

"You can take a shower if you like. Fresh towels in there for you. I even left some hot water." He nodded and took her up on her offer. His shower was decidedly cold.

When he came back out, she was already curled into a ball in her bed, and he was grateful. No awkward questions. No conversation. He fell asleep quickly.

Arria awoke in the middle of the night, sweating, panting, and physically frustrated. Vulpes had found her in her dreams again, this time not so innocently. She pulled her knees to her chest to collect herself. The walls were too close-the air too hot. She was going to lose her mind in here. There was no breeze, no stars. Just darkness.

In an effort to calm herself, she lay back down and closed her eyes, letting the sounds flow through her. She had almost forgotten that Boone had slept on her couch until she heard his deep, even breaths in the quiet of the room. She forced herself to match his breaths. Slowly, her heart rate calmed down, and she was sedate enough to fall back to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey guys! Happy Halloween! Here's another chapter to go with any Halloween loot you may have gotten. Enjoy! And thank you guys so much for reading and reviewing and following! It keeps me going. I promise I will get back to everyone that has reviewed. I've just been so focused on getting all the ideas out of my head and onto the screen. Anyways, I'll let you guys read now!

* * *

Boone woke when shafts of light filtered through the boarded up windows and onto his face. He squinted, the light too bright even with his sunglasses on. Despite a slight crick in his neck, he realized he felt better than he had in a while. It was surprising what a good night's sleep could do. Despite that good night's sleep, his guilt and anger still coiled in his stomach a constant companion, waiting for a moment of peace to strike.

He looked up, his eyes falling on Arria's sleeping form. A smile had crept onto her face sometime in the night. At least someone had found peace. His stomach rumbled angrily. When was the last time they ate?

When Arria stretched herself awake, she literally felt the absence of noise and quickly looked around for Boone. The blanket and pillow were still on the couch, albeit the pillow looked beaten and fluffed. She threw the covers from herself and stood up. Where did he go? The bathroom door was still open, so that ruled that out. Maybe he stepped out for a smoke?

She took her stolen moment of solitude to stretch her legs. The walls were starting to close in again. She found herself on the roof-legs crossed leaning back to feel the sun on her skin. Despite her driving need to constantly move, this moment was the perfect kind of relaxation. Her mind wasn't even whirling with thoughts. Not yet, anyways.

Suddenly, her light was blocked by a hulking figure. Her heart stopped, and her body tensed. Why hadn't she sensed it? The figure sat in front of her and began to unwrap something. She slowly opened one eye to see a red beret and sunglasses. She let out a sigh of relief. It was just Boone. He was splitting food between the two of them. Arria smiled slightly at him.

"I haven't seen you eat yet," he stated simply, pushing Fancy Lad cakes and Gecko Bites in her direction. She wasn't going to argue. They sat there in silence, munching on the snack foods. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. His face was set in a constant scowl, and his eyes had a hard set about them as he scanned the horizon. She couldn't tell what color they were from where she sat. She really didn't know anything about this man she was traveling with. She hadn't been curious before. She tested the waters.

"So, how'd you end up in Novac?" she asked, fiddling with a strand of her hair.

He stiffened visibly. "Manny told me about it."

_Stop talking. Just stop, now. Drop it._ "How do you know Manny? Seems like a dick."

Boone chocked on a Gecko Bite. That was blunt. "He was my spotter."

Arria nodded. She had figured as much. "So, what happened?"

"I met Carla," he stated neutrally. "They didn't get along. We grew apart. When Carla was taken…I was sure he had something to do with it."

_Now is a good time to shut up. Don't push him. Stop it. Don't open your mouth._ "How do you know she's…? I mean, we could go looking if you wanted to."

Boone's eyes flashed dangerously. She wanted to look away from his steel gaze, but she couldn't back down in a battle of wills.

"I just know. Drop it," he warned, his scrutiny making her squirm internally. The tension radiating off him was almost palpable. Finally, she looked away.

"Okay," she said, her voice emotionless. She pushed the remaining food away from her and climbed down off the roof to get her pack. They needed to head out soon anyways.

His denial of information hadn't hurt her feelings. Hell, she'd probably be secretive if she had anything to hide, too. She didn't care that he didn't trust her. She didn't really care about what happened either. As long as he could continue to hit what he aimed for, it was none of her business. At least, that's what she told herself.

Why, _why_ did she always sneak things on him? First, it was her presence. Then, it was those questions. Innocent questions, sure, but still questions. What happened to the woman who didn't need any further information before hunting down his wife's seller? Was it because he did something that was a basic human nicety? Did she feel like she needed to get to know him? Well, it wouldn't happen. He didn't want to drag anyone else down with him, especially considering her odds grew once they started traveling together.

Her shoulders were absolutely rigid as they made their way out of the motel and toward RepCon, and she made a point to not to look in his direction. Other than that, he couldn't read any kind of emotion off of her. She'd get over it. He watched her kick a rock with a bit more force than was needed. It whistled over the train tracks and half way up the hill in front of them. This was going to be a long trip.

* * *

Arria knew the mission was going to suck; she just hadn't know how much. _Well, I do now. _She was curled into a corner, her hand pressing a napkin to her bleeding leg. Fucking ricochet. A few feet away, a nightkin convulsed and chocked on its own blood. She had managed to slit its throat just as he had fired wildly. Arria hissed as Boone moved closer and forced her to apply more pressure.

"You know what?" she panted "I say we tell the motherfucker his girlfriend is dead and get the fuck out of here." Her eyes flashed back to Harland, the trigger happy ghoul, and his sad eyes. When he talked about his missing "friend", she just couldn't say no. She may not know (or remember) what love felt like, but he did. And it had struck a chord with her.

"It's just the pain talking," Boone murmured as he gently pulled back the napkin, making sure to touch her as little as possible. Arria watched his face pull into a confused scowl. The wound was halfway healed.

She pushed his hand away. "I'll be fine. Can I be alone for a second?" He nodded and turned around, walking down the opposite hallway.

Arria leaned her head back, already feeling the itch of a new scab forming. She just wanted to give the wound a few minutes to heal without Boone hovering. For someone who didn't give two shits he sure was persistent. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

Her mind had other plans for her, however. It shot her back to a moment lost in the murky shadows of a gunshot. She was standing at the edge of a sea of crimson, all eyes facing forward. The air was wrought with tension which intensified as a group of people moved to face the crowd-one man bound by ropes. Arria moved forward, her heart pounding. Everything around her was a blur of red. The only thing that was crystal clear was one man, the man bound in rope. His body was calm and loose; his eyes, however, frantically searched for something. When they landed on her, they softened, and she stopped moving. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Her heart stopped.

"Dad," she whispered, continuing her frantic move forward. If she could get closer to him, everything would be okay. Soft, feminine hands grabbed her arms before she reached him and held her close. She struggled as the figure in front of her was covered in pitch.

"Dad!" she yelled as a fire crackled in the background. She struggled harder, despite the whispered pleas of the woman holding her. Men spoke in loud voices. Arria didn't pay attention. She yanked one of her arms away from the frantic woman, held her fingers to her lips, and sent her love to the man dripping with pitch.

Then, before her very eyes, the bound man, her father, caught on fire and was kicked over the edge of a ravine. He didn't make a sound, not a single utterance of pain or farewell. She whirled around to bury her face in the arms of her mother, no tears to shed.

"Arria." Boone tapped her with the side of his boot. She was zoning out. Did she loose too much blood? He cursed. He knew he shouldn't have left her alone. The sniper squatted to be eye level with the glassy-eyed woman in front of him and gently shook her. "Arria?"

She gasped back to the present to find Boone glaring down at her over his sunglasses. He quickly retracted his hands. She couldn't meet his eye.

"I'm fine," she rasped, pushing herself into a standing position. "Let's just finish this." She walked away, Boone behind her slightly confused.

Twenty minutes and a couple nightkins later, Arria and Boone stood over the broken body of a female ghoul. They were too late. _Damn it!_ Arria looked away, emotionally drained for the day. There was no time to sort through everything that was already going on her head. Now, she had to deal with telling Harland the news. She glanced at Boone. He was staring at the body, his eyebrows pulled together and his lips turned down.

She nudged him and headed back to Harland, her heart heavy for more than one reason. When they walked into his little hide away, the ghoul looked up excitedly. His face fell dramatically when he finally looked at Arria. His eyes slid over to Boone, ever hopeful, only to find the same prognosis. She watched his face crumble under the weight of all-consuming sadness.

"Damn it, I'm going to miss that crooked, yellow smile…" Harland sighed. He visibly made an effort to control his emotions. He thanked them and ran past them, sniffling. Arria's heart contracted painfully for him as she watched him to make sure he was safe. With a quick glance back at Boone, they went up to look for the supposed stealth boys.

* * *

By the time it was dark outside, Arria and Boone made their way back to Novac, their mission for Manny complete. Behind them, a surly Chris Haverstrom followed. Convincing him that he was indeed human-not a ghoul-and that Jason was using him for labor his followers couldn't do themselves was another monster all together. When Arria finally cracked his understanding, he wanted revenge, and Arria was more than happy to oblige. Blowing up the ghoul's rocket ship had been an easy decision after seeing the pain on Harland's face.

Boone glanced at the place where the bullet grazed Arria's leg. Blood caked around the rip in her armor, but underneath there was nothing but smooth skin. How did that even happen? _How?_ One second she was curled up in a corner, panting in pain. Then, all of a sudden, she was up walking around, killing anything in her path. Boone felt his face curl into a scowl. No. He didn't care. None of his business. It just meant she could take a hit better than he could.

Arria felt weary down to her bones but not because of any kind of physical activity. Along with getting shot (again), she had seen her father die by the hands of the Legion. Why? She couldn't remember to save her life. His last moments repeated behind her eyelids as if to torcher her. It felt as if there had been something missing…something vitally important that was dancing around her consciousness. It buzzed constantly. She wanted to swat it away.

When the motley crew finally reached Novac, Arria escorted Chris to the gift shop while Boone stayed outside. She left him with Cliff so she could deal with Manny. The ex-Khan glared when she came into his space. There were food wrappers and drinks scattered everywhere as if he hadn't left his post in a few days. Arria refused to feel sorry for him, even as her conscious kicked in.

"RepCon is safe," she said as she moved to look over the Mojave. She felt Manny nod next to her. "If you need to get some sleep, you can go ahead. I can watch for tonight."

His eyes pierced her back. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit. Go get some sleep before I trip you out of your chair. You're no use to this town tired. I'll watch tonight and head out in the morning. It's the least I can do. Just get some sleep."

He looked at her as if he would like to either punch or kiss her. She pulled out her rifle and took her spot by the opening of the dinosaur's mouth. "Can I just ask you something?"

She looked around, aggravated. He was supposed to be halfway to his room by now. "What?"

"Will you take care of him?" His voice was soft. She turned to fully face him in an attempt to read his body language. His eyes were downcast, his mouth turned down into a frown that didn't seem to suit him.

"Of course," she promised, and with that, he was gone. She turned back around to focus on her job.

She heard the door open a few minutes later and knew it was Boone. He didn't ask any questions. He didn't say anything. He just sat in the corner and watched the night sky.


	13. Chapter 13

Arria found herself curled up where Boone had been the night before, a kink in her neck and her muscles bunched up. She vaguely remembered Boone forcing her to go to sleep sometime after midnight. Now, she had awoken to the sounds of tense voices. Manny's hands were clenched into fists, his eyes daggers in Boone's back.

"She fell asleep?" Manny groused, incredulous.

"She had a rough day," Boone grunted. "I made her go to sleep."

"So, you're really leaving?"

"Yes," Boone affirmed.

"Is it because of her?" Manny's hands gestured wildly in her general direction.

"You're just full of questions, aren't you?" the older sniper growled.

"You didn't answer it."

Boone turned around, agitation written on his face. His expression changed to neutral once he saw that Arria's eyes were on him. "It's shift change. Come on, Arria." He grabbed her wrist, and they left Manny alone in the sniper's nest to grumble and fester.

Arria nodded to Cliff before Boone pulled her out the door. As soon as the door closed behind them, he let go of her as if she burned his skin and put as much distance as he could manage between them. He lit a cigarette and tossed her pack at her. She hadn't even noticed he had grabbed them. She stared at him from behind a veil of hair.

"Let's get going," he demanded before he took a long drag on his cigarette. She held up a finger and dug through her pack. She tossed some food at him, and began munching on her portion. After they were done, she walked toward the gate.

"Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, if it ain't my good friend from Goodsprings!" a voice called to her as she walked passed. She looked around, her eyes searching for the owner of that sickeningly familiar voice. It couldn't be. Not here. That old pile of nuts and bolts said he hadn't left Goodsprings since he arrived there.

Sure enough, Victor the Securitron rolled right up to her, his screen flashing a grinning cowboy. She narrowed her eyes. "What are you doing in Novac?"

Victor paused as if he were confused. "I don't rightly know- I just got the notion to make my way to New Vegas. Reckon I'll find out when I get there!" he finished cheerfully. She got the strange feeling as if he were following her. Of course he was going to New Vegas.

"Well, then, I daresay we shall meet again, Victor. But right now I have to get going. Good luck." And with that she turned away and went on her way. God, that robot gave her the friggen' creeps.

Boone caught up to her retreating figure with ease. She stiffened. He was going to ask what that was about. She shook her head, a silent plea for him not to ask. Either he didn't see it or he was ignoring her body language.

"What was that about?"

Arria kicked a rock. She hated being right. She almost blew the question off. He hadn't shared with her. But, she wasn't going to be like him.

"You know, it's a tale as old as time. Girl takes a delivery. Boy finds girl. Boy shots girl and takes her delivery. Girl gets dug up by a creepy robot. Haven't you heard all the sonnets about it? It's almost cliché," she quipped, trying to add humor.

She didn't have to look at him to know he was scowling. She could feel it. "So, that's your revenge mission?"

"He almost killed me. He made me forget nearly everything about myself. Yes, that's my revenge mission."

He held up his hands as if he hadn't meant to offend her. She walked on, every step bringing her closer to payback.

"It's not because of me is it? You leaving Novac, I mean," Arria asked a few miles later. Boone grimaced. "I mean, I promise I'm not that conceited. But, you wouldn't answer Manny."

"That was to piss him off," Boone grunted as he scanned the horizon. He shot a couple of bloatflies to cover up the silence. He still hadn't answered her question. He sighed in frustration. "I left because I want my own revenge. I've waited this long. I can wait until you get your kicks with this guy out of the way. But, I won't wait forever."

"Message received," Arria nodded. It hadn't completely quelled her curiosity, but she knew it was as far as she was getting today. They continued on in silence, each caught up in their own thoughts.

* * *

Arria smelled the 188 Trading Post before she saw it, which caused her stomach to growl loudly. Boone looked over at her in surprise-well what seemed to be surprise. Others would have seen it as a scowl. She smiled awkwardly at him as she held her stomach to quiet it. Her mouth began to water. She had just eaten before they left, not but a few hours ago. How could she be that hungry? Granted, it had only been a meal of Fancy Lad Cakes and Gecko Bites.

As they made their way closer, Arria began to unconsciously categorize everyone by threat level. This was obviously an NCR outpost, and for some reason, that made her nervous. Her hand hovered around her pistol on her hip. Boone gave her a characteristic scowl which she returned.

When they finally got to the heart of the 188, Boone left her without a word, presumably to get food and supplies. Arria, meanwhile, gained many a sideway glance as she climbed on top of a wrecked trailer to catch a glimpse of the distant New Vegas. It was clouded by haze and heat vapors, but she could make out the outline of its tallest buildings. The wind blew gently against her skin as she continued to stare, transfixed on the idea of the city of debauchery. He was there. Did he have an inkling that he might have failed at finishing her off? Did he sense her thirst for his blood? Doubtful. She sat there and contemplated the enigma that had become her mission in life, not caring about the locals throwing furtive glances in her direction.

Below her, she heard an aggravated sigh. "Will you get down here and eat?" She looked down to find Boone glaring up at her holding two plates heaped with food. She didn't feel very hungry any more, but obliged him anyway, not willing to argue for once. When she scrambled down, Boone thrust a plate at her and walked off, sitting at a bar. She vaguely wondered what had pissed the sniper off as she sat next to him. They ate in silence. It seemed to be a pattern with them. She told herself she was fine with it.

Boone finished his meal first, only to flit off again in search of ammo. Arria was left by herself, with still half a mound of food on her plate. His seat wasn't left unoccupied for long, however. A woman quickly hopped onto the bar stool beside her. Arria eyed her as she chewed. No guns, just a power fist. Dressed modestly in all brown. Eyes bright with energy, mouth lifting at the corners. Either she was really good with that power fist or incredibly…naïve to say the least. Maybe both.

"No offense, but you look like you've traveled a long way down some bad roads," the woman commented. Arria snorted and nodded. Vulpes was becoming an every night thing, each encounter becoming more and more…physical. Every time she woke up, she thought she was going to claw her way out of her skin with frustration and need. She could still see his eyes whenever she closed hers.

"So, where are you from?" the woman asked, trying to keep Arria's attention. Quickly, her mind flashed back to the sea of crimson Legion, but she shook that off. She was obviously not Legion. She was too well trained for a female to be Legion. Instead, the image of her dirt bed waiting for her in Goodsprings flashed before her eyes. Seemed like a good enough answer.

"The grave," Arria quipped cryptically, turning one of her best smiles onto the woman. She looked taken aback. That was obviously not the answer she was looking for.

"Huh. Well, in that case I take it back. You look pretty good, given the circumstances." The woman shuffled uncomfortably beside her, and Arria chuckled.

"You sure know how to make a girl feel beautiful," the courier chortled.

"That's what I'm here for. I'm Veronica. I live in a hole in the ground." The two women shook hands and Arria introduced herself.

"So, you live in a hole in the ground?" she asked, pushing the half mound of food on a plate toward Veronica. The other woman smiled appreciatively and began to pick off bites.

"Well, a bunker, if you want to get technical. I think it sounds more interesting my way," the other woman explained.

"It's definitely an ice breaker," Arria agreed.

They snickered together, picking pieces off. "Yeah, but I'm not there much anymore. I'm usually out here picking up food and supplies for my family. Whatever they need."

"So, you just leave your family in the bunker?" Arria envisioned children running around and a husband trying to chase after them.

"Yeah. I'm not worried. They can handle themselves. But, somebody has to get the groceries, know what I mean?"

Arria really didn't, but she nodded anyways. Veronica sounded slightly bitter, and Arria understood bitter.

"And actually these days I think they'd rather have me out here anyway. But, that's a whole other story," Veronica continued.

Arria nodded again, and they lapsed into silence. She had been hanging out with Boone too much. Suddenly, the woman beside her twitched nervously. She opened her mouth, as if to ask a question, only to close it again just as quickly.

Finally, she spat it out. "So, listen, can I ask you a question on the level?"

The courier wasn't quite sure which level she was going to ask the question on, or for that matter, what level they were on now, but she nodded and motioned for the woman to continue.

"I had a run in with this group calling themselves the Brotherhood of Steel. Pretty strange bunch. Do you know anything about them?"

Arria considered Veronica's previous body language before she answered the question. It was obvious she was one of them. There were no little hellions running around. Just the Brotherhood of Steel.

"They're usually harmless unless you use advanced technology around them," came spilling out of her mouth before she could completely formulate an answer. Where the hell had that come from? Her head ached all of a sudden, prompting her to believe that it was a piece of forgotten memory scratching its way to the surface.

Arria watched as surprise broke through on the other woman's face. It was quickly put down by a grin. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem for me. I can't afford anything like that."

The courier nodded, playing along with Veronica's game. She would tell her when she was ready.

"So…where are you headed, anyway?" Veronica asked, stuffing the last bite into her mouth.

"The Strip," Arria said, looking away. Her eyes fell onto Boone negotiating with a gun merchant in the distance. His mouth twitched into a tight smirk, and he nodded, his mannerisms almost cocky. Guns were definitely his element.

"Oooo. Very exciting. Gonna strike it rich, huh?"

_I'm going to strike something_. A ferocious smirk crossed her face with just that thought.

"I'll be honest," the woman beside her continued, breaking Arria's train of thought "You're the first person I've run across out here that looks like they can really handle themselves. There are places I've never been to that'd be too dangerous for just me. What do you think? Maybe we could travel together, help each other out."

Arria looked over the woman again. She was a wisp of a girl, far too thin and light. But, she did have that power fist on her arm, and she had made it this far without being killed. It wouldn't hurt to have one more set of eyes on the horizon. Hell, she may even be useful in exterminating Benny.

"Where are you hoping to go?"

"Oh, nowhere in particular, really. Just hoping to see more of the world. Looking for a fresh perspective. I want to see how different groups have adapted to survive in the Mojave. See if there's something I can learn from them."

Arria appreciated that answer. It was an honest answer. "Okay, let's travel together."

"Now you're talking!" the woman exclaimed, earning her a few sideward glances of her own. She blushed and waited for everyone to stop looking at her before she continued. "One thing you should know, first, though. I asked you about the Brotherhood because I'm one of them."

"Well, duh," Arria snorted. Veronica continued on as if she hadn't heard Arria's words.

"I know, I know. But, I had to know how you'd react…wait…what?" Veronica stuttered, her eyes big as the full moon.

"You're body language gave you away."

"And you're still okay with bringing me along?"

Arria looked her straight in her pleading eyes. She didn't want Veronica second guessing her. "We leave as soon as Boone is finished."

Veronica appeared to be speechless, and Arria left her to go talk to said sniper. He had half way finished his haggling. "We have a new recruit," she murmured tipping her head in Veronica's direction. Boone looked around, eyeing the girl.

Finally, he grunted and shrugged. "Looks like a Brotherhood scribe."

Arria laughed and patted him on the shoulder. He flinched. "Too right," she said, continuing to chuckle.

* * *

True to her word, the motley group left the trading post as soon as Boone had finished shaking down the gun merchant. Everyone's pack felt heavier as they trudged their way toward the now waking New Vegas. Veronica chatted enthusiastically, despite her companion's stoic silence. Arria grinned. It was nice to have some life to the party.

All around them, the Mojave blended together, no distinguishing features to the untrained eyes. To Arria, however, there were numerous things to notice and categorize for later notes. Her precision and attention to detail made her vaguely wonder what she used to do. She quickly shook her head. It was a moot point.

"Oh wow! Is that a Pipboy 3000? May I look at it?" Veronica requested, the embodiment of excitement. Arria stuck her arm out to let the woman investigate her technology. Veronica was practically jumping up and down with glee as she pushed buttons and turned nobs. Arria let her have her fun. Besides, someone should have fun on this long walk. Boone sure wasn't going to talk.

As night fell, they set up camp on the highest hill Arria could find. Veronica tended the fire while Boone went out to hunt something to eat. Arria busied herself by making sure their position was secured. After she was satisfied, she sat next to the chipper woman who was poking the flames with a stick.

Veronica turned to her. "So why are you really going to the Strip?" she asked, adding a couple of pieces of wood. The fire danced higher, licking and crackling against the dry wood. Arria blinked to pry her mind away from the dangerous thoughts of her father.

"I'm on a mission of revenge," she explained, pulling her hair away so Veronica could see her scar. "Benny, the leader of the Tops casino, shot me while I was on a delivery and took my package. I want to return the favor."

Veronica nodded, a look of disgust on her face. "He deserves it."

"You don't have to tell me," Arria laughed. The scribe cracked a smile and bumped Arria with her shoulder. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

Behind her, Arria heard Boone work his way back to their position. She turned around to see him with a gecko in his arms. She smiled at him, and he nodded back. He wasn't so bad when he wasn't being Mr. Stoic. He even cooked for them. After everyone had their fill, Arria cleaned the mess and insisted Veronica and Boone get some sleep. She would take first watch. She wasn't tired.

After much insisting, Arria sat alone while the others fell asleep around her. It was nice to have a moment to herself. Part of her missed traveling alone. It was quieter, and she could think without being interrupted. And she had a lot to think about. She settled into a comfortable position with her rifle laid across her lap and looked out over the sleeping Mojave.

Arria listened to her companions breathing patterns as they slowly became more uniform and relaxed. She looked over at Boone. He still had his sunglasses and beret on. She shook her head. At least he didn't look as mad when he was asleep. In fact, he almost looked handsome. She quickly looked away. No. No. No. No. No. NO. She was not going to even think like that. It was dangerous territory. He wouldn't even stand within two feet of her if he didn't have to. He had some major baggage that she was in no way, shape, or form willing to deal with. She couldn't even deal with herself. Besides, she didn't even see him that way. He was her constantly scowling companion and that was it. No more, no less.

Instead, Arria turned back to the Mojave. Her head had launched a campaign of pain against her again, a dull thud every time her heart beat. Her vision was beginning to blur as well. She pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to control herself. She tried not to hyperventilate.

Before her, another scene unraveled, a scene of pure jubilation. Arria sat on a hill overlooking the festivities, staring moodily down at the people below. Women were passed around like toys, no choice in who they danced with or did more with. Men twirled women around the huge bonfire, copping fields and lifting already small skirts. Some even went as far as they could in front of everyone, partly to embarrass the woman they were with. The sounds of their moans floated to her ears. She grimaced in disgust. Their shadows flickered in the background, just as lewd as their counterparts.

Caesar sat in a high backed chair, a woman on each side, as he grinned at his men. The women fed him grapes and groped him in equal measure. He could change this, but he wouldn't. It was far too entertaining for him. Besides, it was a _celebration_. She brought her knees to her chest angrily. That was why she was up on her hill, away from the drunks. With as intoxicated as the men down there were, it wouldn't matter to them that she was off limits-until it was too late for them.

"I knew I'd find you up here," a silky voice intoned from behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Vulpes. His voice was unmistakable. It caused her to melt slightly.

"Yeah, I'm up here to be alone," she hinted pointedly. She didn't want to argue tonight.

"Fair enough," he conceded. "But, I just want to be alone, too. Do you mind if I sit up here, if I don't talk?"

She turned around in utter shock. He was asking for permission. She stared at him, trying to decide if he was drunk. "Do what you want," she finally murmured.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up to him. "If that's the case, then, I want to dance with you."

She was in such a state of shock that she didn't protest. Instead, her body melded to his, fitting in all the right places. He rested his arm around her waist and took her hand in his other. As she relaxed completely, he snuggled his face into her neck, his breath dancing across her neck slowly driving her crazy. Softly, he began to sing into her ear, his lips brushing ever so lightly. The music below was fast and jubilant, but his soft words pulled the tempo down to a slow dance.

He spoke in a tribal tongue that she hadn't heard since he came to the Legion. His words sparked a soft flame to flicker below her gut. Her stomach clenched nervously when he pulled her even tighter. She felt a substantial bulge pressed against her leg. No man had ever dared to hold her like that before.

"What are you singing about, Vulpes?" she asked against his shoulder. He pulled back and looked into her eyes. He had a very serious look to him. It made her nervous.

"Love," he murmured after a pause. Part of her snorted at the corniness of it while the other half stuffed those thoughts deep down. Vulpes was always a warrior. Such admissions from him were rare hunks of gold. The closest she had seen him to this was when he was joking, and he didn't do that much since he gained rank.

The cynical side wouldn't die so easily, however. He will never see you as an equal, it sneered. There is no future. She hid her thoughts by cuddling back into his shoulder.

"Arria," he started, his heart beat picking up in her ears. "I have been struggling with something for a very long time. It has vexed me for as long as I have known you, since the moment I watched you make a recruit legionary twice your size cry like a baby. You are beyond anything I could-" She cut him off with a finger to his lips. If he admitted that he loved her, she would not be able to hold back. No, it was best to keep it unspoken.

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

Vulpes misunderstood her actions and words for mutual feelings. He pulled back and captured her lips with his, kissing her so passionately she became dizzy. He used both his hands to crush his body against hers, rocking her as he moved. She ran her hands through his hair, using it to pull his mouth down harder. God, did she love it when he let his hair grow out.

She knew she shouldn't have done this. She KNEW it. But, for once, she didn't want to care. His hands on her body were driving her mad. In that moment, she knew she felt the same about that lost boy in her arms. It could have been lust, but it wasn't. It had been boiling for years. He was her best friend, the boy she used to make eat dirt. He was strong and funny and kind to his people. Despite everything anyone said about him, he was a good man. And he was all hers if she wanted him. All she would have to do was give up everything she had worked so hard for. That thought cooled her blood considerably, and she pulled back.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his hair mussed and his lips swollen. She couldn't look at him. He was too beautiful. They both breathed heavily as she untangled herself from him. Her legs quaked unsteadily.

"I just can't do this," she sighed. His eyes shone with pain for a second before he donned his commander face, a cool mask meant to isolate and intimidate.

"Okay," he whispered, his voice cold silver. He turned away from her.

"Vulpes?" she called, something inside her afraid that they had broken. He turned around and gave her a small smile, attempting to show that he was okay. Her heart ached. She flew into his waiting arms without a second thought and let him carry her to his tent, where he murmured tribal vows of love all night and most of the morning.

* * *

Arria came back to the sleeping desert and wished, for once, that she could cry. She even wiped her eye, only to find them dry. She quickly became aware that Boone was staring at her, a hint of question in his gaze. She would have given anything to spill her secrets to her companion, but she knew he would hate her for her past. Sometimes she hated herself for it. It was time to come to grips with the fact that she was probably Legion. With that thought, she avoided Boone's steel scrutiny. It was too much.

They switched spots, Boone taking up look out and Arria curling into her bed roll. She couldn't sleep. She doubted she would ever be able to sleep ever again.


	14. Chapter 14

I'm mixing it up and starting with Vulpes' POV. Hope you guys enjoy this one! And thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

The giant expanse of the Mojave yawned around Vulpes. He had been walking for nearly two days straight, and every moment from Novac to Cottonwood Cove was nerve racking. He was in NCR territory after literally ruining one of their towns. He never should have followed Arria as far as he had, but it was Arria. Her looks alone were enough to drive a man crazy. Add years and years of history, sexual tension, and bubbling feelings and then one could understand Vulpes' obsession.

He mentally shook himself. He wasn't done with his mission just yet; he could fixate when he was done. Now was the time to focus on what he was going to tell Caesar. To tell him that he had seen Arria could be disastrous. Ever since she had left, any mention of her would be met with scorn and punishment, especially if Vulpes said anything. Would telling Caesar be worth the rage that was sure to arise afterward? He would just have to see how Caesar was feeling when he arrived.

Vulpes ran a hand over his brow to wipe away the sweat. If he didn't cool down soon, he'd swim himself all the way to the Fort. Screw the boat. He smirked. Arria had always been in the water whenever an opportunity had presented itself. His mind slipped back to a particularly hot day when Arria was still with him. She stripped down to nothing and floated in the Colorado on her back. Every man, including Caesar himself, stopped what they were doing to watch her. Not much work had gotten done that day. Vulpes had to swim out to where she was suspended and pull her underwater to get prying eyes away from her. Afterward, they had snuck off to a private stretch of beach and made so much noise nothing would come within fifty feet of them.

That was the problem with Arria. She always forgot she was a woman, at least until Vulpes made her realize it by physical action. She didn't realize how perfectly shaped she was…how captivating her lips were when she talked…how deep her eyes appeared when she was staring off into space. It wasn't really her fault, though. She was programmed to be a warrior, not a pin-up. She was raised as a man because of what they had done to her while she was still in her mother's womb.

From what Vulpes could understand, the Malpais Legate and Caesar had designs for a super warrior for their Legion. They sought out a scientist from the East who claimed he could help create the ultimate warrior under one condition: the subject had to be an unborn infant. Graham had offered up his pregnant wife, sure that their infant would be a male. They had injected her unborn child with a strand of the FEV virus, and a few months later came Arria in all her glory. Disappointment rang throughout the camp. It had been a girl. Had they been able to kill her in her infancy, they would have. However, she was incredibly strong even as a baby. Prophets said she was their punishment for using technology and dissolute medicines. With no other options, they trained her as if she were a boy. It turned out to be a blessing. The NCR never expected a woman to fight in their ranks.

All of it had been before Vulpes had been taken in by the Legion, and he didn't like to think about it. It made Arria seem tainted somehow. He couldn't see it, though. In his eyes, she was perfect, if not a little mouthy. She had never learned her place as woman, a trait he wished to teach her as his wife. But she left him three years ago alone and naked in his tent. He shook himself mentally; he was getting into dangerous territory. No need to think about that anymore.

He looked around to find that he had passed the irradiated camp of Searchlight a few miles back; he wasn't too far away from Cottonwood Cove. Vulpes smirked to himself. His attack on Searchlight had been quite a bit of fun on his part. Sometimes working as a Frumentarii was entertaining. He only wished Arria had stuck around to join him. She was even better at it than he was, quickly changing into whatever was needed of her. He hated taking her to the Strip, though. She always found ways to get into things she shouldn't have, especially if it included NCR men in uniform. Vulpes growled. Why, _why_ couldn't he stop thinking about her?

He walked into Cottonwood Cove without a word to anyone and stepped onto the boat that would take him to Caesar.

* * *

Boone watched the courier crawl into her bed roll with an air of suspicion. Something was going on with that woman. He told himself he didn't care. He had enough shit to deal with. He listened for her breathing to slow down as she fell asleep, but it never did. Whatever had happened to her, she still dealt with it. _Join the club._ He turned away from his traveling companions to get a better scope of the area around them. Arria had done a good job clearing out the expanse around them. It made his job easier. He laid back against a rock and watched the stars, wondering again if he had made the right choice.

When it was Veronica's turn to take over the watch, Boone let her sleep. He still didn't exactly trust her to watch over them as they slumbered. She seemed a little flighty. Even if he had made her take over, he would have tossed and turned. At least this way he was doing something productive. Boone's eyes wandered back over to the courier's form. She still wasn't asleep. He sighed.

"I know you're awake," he stated. She didn't even jump. Instead she turned to face him, her eyes haunted and ringed from not enough sleep.

"I wasn't exactly hiding it," she mumbled. Boone raised an eyebrow. Look who's grouchy now.

"Well, if you wanted to in the future, I would try thrashing around. You tend to do that in your sleep."

Arria sat up. "Watching me sleep?" A cheeky grin flitted across her face.

He grunted, regretting saying anything at all. Arria stared into the embers still burning in the fire pit, all traces of a smile gone. She had pulled her knees to her chest and put her head down. Her hair cascaded over her face and arms. He tore his eyes away from her to light a cigarette.

"Do you have to smoke?" Her question was muffled between her legs, but he still heard her. He was tempted to ignore it. She looked at him expectantly.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Why?"

"Why does it bother you?"

"Benny was smoking when he tried to off me. It just reminds me of him," she explained. Boone took another drag. So, why should that affect him? He didn't shoot her, for crying out loud. He blew out smoke. She huffed and put her head back between her arms.

"Fine," she grumbled.

He had quit for Carla. She had nagged him until he finally abandoned them all together. Said it was bad for the baby. After she was taken, they became the only thing that would stop the shaking and break his need for alcohol. Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to drink himself into a stupor-this being one of those times. But he knew he deserved to suffer. He was not a good man, and he didn't deserve a good ending. Hell, the cigarettes may even kill him sooner. No way was he was going to give that up.

"Go to sleep," he grunted as he snuffed out his cigarette against his boot. Arria looked at the half-finished smoke and then at Boone. Her eyes seemed dead tired. God, did he know that feeling.

"What if I can't?" she whispered, her eyes unblinking. He rubbed his hand over his face. Great. Now she would want to talk.

Instead, Arria pursed her lips, shook her head, and rolled back into her bed roll, facing away from Boone. Within the hour, her breathing slowed down and her body relaxed under her covers. Finally, he knew she had fallen asleep. He relaxed a bit. She made him nervous, maybe because he saw a lot of himself in her. With that shocking revelation echoing in his head, Boone turned toward the rising sun waiting for the right time to wake up his companions. It had been a very long night.

Arria's eyes opened after Boone nudged her with his boot. Behind her, she heard Veronica rant about not being woken up for guard duty as she started breakfast. Arria didn't want to wake up, but Boone wouldn't let her go back to sleep, nudging her again. She fought the urge to grab his leg and yank him down. Instead, she untangled herself from her bed roll and walked away from the group to find a private place to relieve herself.

When she came back, Veronica threw a Nuka-Cola at her and went back to cooking. Caffeine was exactly what she needed. She nodded to the other woman in thanks. Boone ignored the exchange and cleaned his gun. Arria couldn't look at him. Instead, she watched Veronica chatter happily as she threw various ingredients into the frying pan and then laugh when it splattered. Having her around made Arria breathe easier. At least it wouldn't be completely quiet for the rest of their walk. Arria didn't know what she'd do if she were left alone in silence with her thoughts again.

"And then I told her that is was molerat!" Veronica cackled, finishing her joke. It didn't matter to her that none of the others laughed. She laughed until her face turned red. Arria chuckled as she watched the other woman. Boone rolled his eyes and scowled at his gun.

The group left after they cleaned up, Arria itching to get to New Vegas. With eyes trained on the city ahead, Arria let Boone and Veronica take care of problems that arose. Nothing would get in her way. Nothing would slow her down, damn it. Benny's blood was hers. Just thinking about it caused her eyes to dance mercilessly with glee.

Something inside her recoiled at the bloody thoughts. Was this really her? Or was this the way the Legion raised her? Could there possibly be another way to deal with the demented would-be killer? Her mind reeled with the thought. He had attempted murder, goddamn it! On her! He deserved anything and everything she did to him. That was that. She squashed down her conscience. Blood lust was more logical. Why should she forgive him? He hadn't even thought twice about aiming that gun at her head and pulling the trigger. Why should she let him get away with it? He may even do it again; he could be a serial killer for all she knew.

Soon enough, the trio stood in front of the gates of Freeside, each one staring up at the bright colors. Arria blinked, a memory dancing around the edges of her vision. Suddenly two people walked literally through the gates of Freeside, their forms see through and grainy. It was like watching a silent movie. The woman was tucked under the arm of the man, her shoulders shaking in silent laughter. She looked up as the man began whispering in her ear. Arria met the ghost woman's eyes, only to receive a shock of recognition. It was her. A younger version of herself was being led away by a younger Vulpes. On his lips were the words "I'll make you forget that profligate" and a sneer. With a blink, the couple disappeared, along with all the color in Arria's face.

"Hey," she heard Veronica call to her. "Arria? Are you okay?" The courier mentally slapped herself as Veronica placed a hand on her shoulder in concern. It was time to focus. She smiled at the scribe and nodded as she pushed the gate open.

Arria didn't known what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn't what was laid out before her eyes. Buildings were crumbling into disrepair. Debris piled up all around, making Arria feel claustrophobic. People walked around in various stages of dirtiness. Children chased a giant rat hungrily. Arria took pity on the poor kids and put the rat out of its misery with a quick shot. The boys called thanks to her as she passed, blood dripping down their chins as they dismembered their target. She kept her gun out. Freeside had an air of desperation.

As the group made their way toward the next gate, the sounds of angry voices caught Arria's attention. Despite her brain telling her to just leave it alone, she followed the noises around a corner. What she saw made her conscious stomp its foot in anger.

A man in a black jacket stood next to a water pump, his arms crossed and his face screwed into a scowl. Before him, an old woman was begging for just one drink. He shook his head and held out his hand, demanding money first. The old woman stood there with her mouth hanging open nearly in tears. Arria marched over to them.

"What the hell is going on?" her voice boomed. Boone stood a little straighter, an involuntary reaction to the authority in her voice. The man in the black jacket simply eyed her as if she were out of her league.

"None of your business," he mumbled, crossing his arms again.

"I'm so thirsty! I just want one drink. I haven't had anything to drink today!" the old woman protested, tears trickling down her face.

Arria quirked an eyebrow, her nostrils flaring in anger. She came nose to nose with the black clad man. "Why can't she drink?"

"No money."

"Would you do this to your own grandmother?"

"Listen, lady, I ain't one of the goddamned Followers of the Apocalypse! My job isn't to help the down trodden. She's a fucking NCR squatter! Sometimes life isn't fair."

Arria fought the urge to punch him. "Yeah, life isn't fair. But does it mean you have to make things harder? How much for a drink?"

"Ten caps."

She took out her satchel of caps, counted out 100, and threw them at him. "That's enough for ten people who can't pay. Now, who can I talk to about this?"

* * *

Boone caught up to the courier just as she rounded the corner. Her face was twisted in anger and her hands balled into fists. He watched her take deep breaths.

"You handled that better than I expected," he commented. She glared at the ground in front of her.

"Trust me, that's not how I wanted it to turn out. I'm still thinking about going back there and punching the bastard," she murmured, running a hand through her hair in agitation.

Veronica caught up just in time to hear the courier's last remark. "I could go back and handle him if you want!" she offered, holding up her power fist. Arria smiled tightly and kept going, wanting to give this so-called King a piece of her mind. Maybe her fist, too, if he was as cocky as that other asshole.

She crashed through the gate and straight up to the door of the King's House of Impersonation. Men all clad in the same black jackets as the asshole from before milled around the entrance and inside. They all jeered at Boone and pulled out their weapons at just the sight of him. Arria stood closer to him in response. The biggest one stopped her before she burst through the first door she saw.

"What do we have here? Another petitioner for the King?" the man drawled. He placed himself between her and the door and eyed Boone angrily. Arria took a deep breath and forced a smile.

"Yes, I'd like to see the King if possible," she beamed, fluttering her eyelashes at him. He looked like the type to be swayed by a pretty face. It was at least worth a try.

"Anything's possible, I suppose," the man mused, trying to figure her out. "How much is it worth to you to meet the big man?" She pushed herself closer to him, pouting her lips out provocatively.

"Trust me, doll. The King's going to want to see me," she crooned, trailing her fingers in circles on his chest. He looked down at her with lust.

"Well, then go on through, babe," he said with a wave of his hands. She walked past him, swishing her hips.

"Oh," she murmured as she looked back at him. "And one more thing. Could you tell your boys to back off my sniper? I need him to protect me in this big, bad city." The man practically salivated at the sight of her ass. He just nodded, transfixed on the sight of her. She awarded him with a wink and headed toward the man in the middle of the room.

As she faced the King, Arria found it was her turn to be dazzled. His black hair was slicked back with hair gel and combed back into a perfect pompadour. Long lashes protected devilish blue eyes, and his defined lips twisted into a wickedly handsome smirk. Arria had to quickly blink away the image of her nibbling his strong jaw line. His eyes slid all over her body, and she fought the urge to lean over to give him a better look. He nodded in appreciation when she jutted out a hip and crossed her arms.

"Look, Rexie, someone new's come to see us. Poor boy. He hasn't been feeling well lately. I'm the King. What can I do for you?" His voice was velvet, caressing her ears. It placed images of satin sheets and secret trysts into Arria's already whirling mind. Those weren't memories though, just wishful thinking.

_Kiss me._ "I'm here to talk about the water situation here in Freeside." God, her voice came out high and breathy.

He looked confused. "What about it, darlin'"

"It's horrendous. Paying for water? Water should be a basic human right!"

"Look at you. Confident little thing, aren't you?"

"Don't patronize me. I just watched a little, old woman get turned away from water because she didn't have the money to pay. How is that right?"

To her surprise, the King chuckled. "I like your moxie."

She stared at him. _Really?_ His dreamy eyes weren't going to dissuade her indignation this time. "Well, what are you going to do about it?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be the King. What are you a tyrant?"

"That isn't the question here, is it little lady? The question is what are _you _going to do to get me to change my mind?"

She bit her lip, thinking of all kinds of things she craved to do. "What do _you_ want me to do?" she asked as she decided that it wouldn't be prudent to tell him what she wanted to do.

"You look like you can handle yourself. Tell you what. You do me a favor, and I'll see what I can do. Sound good?" he asked. She tore her eyes away from his lips long enough to look over his face. Mmmm what kind of favor? She became a little confused when he pulled out a little satchel half full with caps.

She worded her next question very carefully. "What do you have in mind?"

The King smiled provocatively and looked her over again. "I'll start you off with something easy. Did you notice the bodyguards for hire near the gates when you came entered Freeside?"

She mumbled something about missing them, and he waved his hand as if to say forget it.

"It's good money if you can stay alive long enough. Freeside's not as safe as it used to be, so the money is well-earned. Usually well-earned, that is. Recently, my men tell me that one of those bodyguards, fella names Orris, is making a little too much money. He's making a killing in repeat business. Once someone hires him they never want anyone else. I want you to find out why. Specifically, I want you to hire him. Play the part of an innocent tourist and follow his lead. If nothing happens, so be it. But I'm guessing things won't go so smoothly. Call it a hunch. So, what do you say?"

She mulled it over. To be honest, that wasn't what she was hoping for. But she agreed anyways. It was probably best that he didn't ask for what she was expecting.

The King smiled at her. "Okay, then. Once you part ways, return here. I'll look forward to hearing your report. Oh, and take this to cover the hiring cost," he said, tossing the bag of caps at her. His tone told her she was dismissed. Arria was just glad to get out from under his seductive gaze. When they got outside, she turned to face her companions. Veronica was red with repressed giggles, and Boone stared angrily at her.

"What?" she asked.

"Hate to see you two in private," Veronica busted out. Arria felt her cheeks erupt with heat. She brushed off the comment and got down to work.

"Okay. I have a feeling we're going to be here for at least the night. So, we need to get to work on a sleeping arrangement. I'm going to deal with this. You guys find somewhere to sleep."

Boone and Veronica protested at the same time.

"You're not walking around this city by yourself," growled Boone.

"I can walk alone! Besides I want to check out the Followers of the Apocalypse! We passed their fort on our way over here," Veronica pleaded. Arria looked at her two followers, one plaintive and the other stubborn, and sighed.

"Boone, you'll look like a pansy if you're with me when I hire the body guard," she pointed out.

"I'll take the risk. I'm with you." He folded his arms and planted himself next to her in defiance. He was the closest he had ever been willingly. Arria fought to keep the blush from her cheeks. His proximity was unnerving.

"Okay. Since that's settled, I'll see you guys here in a few hours, okay? Bye!" Veronica chirped as she walked toward the other end of Freeside.

Boone began to walk to the other end, toward the bodyguards. Arria sighed and hurried to catch up.


	15. Chapter 15

This chapter is so far out of my hands it's not funny. I'm not sure where any of this came from, but it felt right so I left it in. Tell me what you think!

* * *

Arria and Boone waited for the crowd to part around Orris. People were practically throwing caps at the over confident man. She rolled her eyes. It couldn't be that hard. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the Kings around them whisper and point in their direction, some winking at Arria. She grinned a dirty grin and winked back. Why not? It was just innocent flirting, unlikely to go anywhere. They pretended to trip over themselves and catcall to her, reminding her of the late night mating calls that could be heard in the Mojave. They stopped, however, when Boone came up behind her and stared them down. Their looks and catcalls became angry, calling Boone some very deplorable names.

"How am I supposed to convince this guy that I need a body-guard when you're scaring away people with just a look?" she hissed through her teeth.

He shrugged. "Who says an NCR citizen doesn't need protection in this part of town?" he asked, adjusting his NCR beret. Arria couldn't believe what she just heard. That had been deliberate? Since when did Boone think that far ahead? Despite her earlier annoyance, she was more than a little impressed. She opened her mouth to tell him so when Orris finally turned his attention on them. He smirked as his eyes swept over the pair. From his perspective, they probably looked like easy money. Arria bit back a grin. They'd show him.

"If you need to cross Freeside, on one will keep you safer that I will," the man boomed, grabbing everyone's attention. Many of his repeat customers cheered at this proclamation. Arria forced herself not to roll her eyes. Instead, she pretended to swoon, her eyes fluttering.

"Mr. Orris," she called, her voice light and sweet. "We are in desperate need of your services. How much will it take?"

"Two hundred caps gets you my watchful eye for a trip to the south gate," he said, his "watchful" eye running over her curves. She pulled out the bag of caps from her pocket and threw them at the bodyguard. He took a moment to weigh them and then nodded.

"Done and done," he declared. "I want to mention a few things up front. In order to ensure your safety, I need you to follow my instructions to the letter. We'll be heading down the main street here the whole way. No detours. You go off sightseeing, and I go off to find another customer. I'll keep a brisk pace, so try not to fall behind. Now, let's head out."

Orris ran ahead of them, and they followed his lead. Arria glanced over at Boone, who rolled his eyes and shook his head. She giggled. Even he knew this was a farce.

They passed the Mormon Fort, which housed the Followers. Arria could almost hear Veronica telling her molerat joke. They reached the gate to the other side of Freeside in barely any time at all, Orris making sure to warn them about the Kings before they passed through their territory. Guess it wouldn't be prudent to talk shit about the muscle of this town to their face. As they walked past some Kings on duty, Orris focused their attention to the "fun part of town", The Wrangler. A little farther down, the bodyguard stopped with a frown on his face. He pointed to a bunch of men loitering at the end of the street.

"Hey, slow down. I don't like the look of some of those men ahead. Let's take a different route around."

Something didn't feel right. If there was something iffy about those men, then the King would have taken care of them, if only because they were so close to their base. But, Arria went along with it. This was her job, right?

Orris turned off the main road, heading down the alley. Arria and Boone kept up, the brisk pace suiting them just fine. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Orris ran like a bat out of hell around the corner, his gun firing three times in quick succession. Boone glanced at Arria, quickly putting himself ahead of her as they rounded the corner. Before them laid four thugs, sprawled out and dead. Arria rushed to the side of one of the men. Maybe they could find out their motive if they just searched around a little…wait. The man was still breathing, and the blood was cold and smelled fake, no hint of copper. She looked up at the beaming man before her.

"Nothing to worry about," he smirked. "If you had hired one of those other hacks, you'd be up to your ass in lowlife right about now."

Boone shook his head. "You only fired three shots. There are four dead bodies."

The smile slipped from Orris' face. He hitched it back on quickly. "Noticed that, did you? I keenly aimed one of the shots through some of the soft tissue of one of them to hit the man behind him."

"Or, you just faked this whole thing to drum up repeat business," Arria accused, standing up. Orris turned to face her.

"That's an interesting theory you've got there. I'd suggest you keep it to yourself. Let's get moving," Orris said, his eyes dangerous. Arria smirked. He may be wearing metal armor, but that wouldn't stop her from ripping his heart out if he tried anything. She wasn't going to let him get away with this either. If he wanted to put on a show, there were places for that. Making people believe he saved them in a life and death situation in a dangerous city was not one of them. Boone glanced at her, almost as if he were waiting for what she was about to do.

"I want all the money you have on you. Now. I can make it to the Kings from here," she growled, pulling out her gun. She ignored the little voice that told her she was just doing what he had done, just not in such a pretty way.

"I ought to take my chances and kill you right here," he snarled. She cocked her gun and aimed for his left eye, silently daring him to. "But you may be right. Here, take this." With that he threw every last cap he had at her feet and spat on them.

Boone bent down to help her pick them up, methodically making sure not to brush hands. As they stood up, he put them in her pack.

"Don't think this is over, though. I'll have my money back, out of your hide if I have to," Orris growled.

"Try it," Boone rumbled. He trained his rifle on Orris' chest, his trigger finger twitching in anger.

The bodyguard eyed the guns pointed in his direction and shook his head. With a quick "let's get this over with" he picked up his brisk pace and led them to the gate to New Vegas.

"Well, here we are. I trust you'll keep your mouth shut about the topic we were just discussing, or else." And with that, Orris was running back to his post to pick up more unknowing customers. Arria watched his retreating figure until he was through the next gate.

"That was interesting, wasn't it?" she sighed as she turned to look at Boone. His face was screwed up into an angry scowl. He looked like he wanted to run after Orris himself. Instead, he grabbed Arria's arm and headed toward the Kings. "I can walk myself," she groused, not appreciating the sudden forcefulness.

"If I have ahold of you, I can't chase him. Just bear with me here," he growled. Instead of getting angry, Arria decided to make him uncomfortable. She spun herself until she was underneath his arm, right next to his chest and cuddled up as close as she could get. They stumbled over each other's feet. His skin seemed to tighten with the sudden contact, and Arria felt muscle. His heart thundered against his rib cage. He scowled. She smiled. Worked like a charm. She expected to be pushed away, and eventually she was. Boone wouldn't look at her as she sashayed her way up to the King's House of Impersonation.

This time, Arria was ready for the shock to her ovaries that looking at the King seemed to give her. She walked right up to him and sat in front of him, crossing her legs. Rex wagged his tail, and the King looked her up and down in appreciation before he spoke.

"So, what do you have for me?" he asked, leaning closer.

Besides wet panties? She shook her head. "Orris is a fraud. He fakes attacks on his clients and then plays hero," she explained, leaning forward as well. Their faces were inches apart. His scent enveloped her. Goddamn it. Not fair.

"So that's how it happens…"he mumbled under his breath. "Okay then. I'll have some guys pull him off the streets when no one's looking."

The King sat back in his chair and exhaled deeply. He ran his hands over his face, and Arria fought a pout, not ready to stop playing. The King didn't disappoint for long, though. The front of his pants twitched eagerly. This was mutual. She smirked, until she looked at Boone. His arms were crossed, and his scowl pierced her soul. For some reason, her mouth went dry, and she sat back in her seat, chastised.

"You've shown me something, so maybe you can help me with a matter that's a little more important," the King sighed, returning to his original position. Arria stayed with her back against the chair; Boone was still scowling. Next time, she was taking Veronica.

* * *

Arria and Boone walked into the Fort to find small-scale chaos. Doctors ran from tent to tent; sweat dripped onto their lab coats. Moans floated to them from all sides, reverberating off the stone walls. The smell of bodily fluids almost churned Arria's stomach. At least, she could cross off doctor as a possible career choice from her past life.

Veronica bounded over to them, a smile written on her face. Behind her, a woman with a tall mohawk watched them with her arms crossed. "Hey, guys! I thought we were going to meet in front of the King's place. I've been so busy! Oh no; I didn't even find a place yet! Wait how long has it been?"

Arria put her hands on Veronica's shoulders, willing her to just stop talking. Her energy was nervous and excited, a weird mixture for the surroundings. Arria looked around to try to find out the source. Her eyes fell on the doctor. Could Veronica be a lesbian? Possible. Arria made a mental note and tucked it away for later.

"It's only been about an hour. I'm actually here on a mission from the King," she explained. "Do you know which tent the men who have been jumped are in?" Veronica nodded and led them over to the first tent on the right.

"What is it? Can't you see I want to be left alone with my friend here?" As soon as they walked in, they were confronted by an angry and bruised old man. She motioned for Boone and Veronica to wait outside. These men had just been jumped; they probably didn't want a bunch of strangers in their faces. It wouldn't be conducive to their healing psyches. When Boone looked like he was going to protest, she threw a dangerous look his way. Now was not the time. Finally, he nodded and followed Veronica out. He stood right outside the door.

Arria held up her hand in a show of understanding. "The King asked me to look into your attack."

The man's face changed instantly from angry and hostile to thankful. "Oh. That's different then. How can I help? I'll do anything to get the bastards that did this."

"What can you tell me about the attack?"

"Well, it happened at night. Around eleven. We had recently made some caps off a bit of scrap we found and wanted to invest it wisely. As we were leaving the Wrangler, we must've taken a wrong turn, and ended up in the Squatter side of town. From out of nowhere, these big guys show up and start barking questions at us. Wanted to know if we were locals. The kid there's about as proud as a local around here gets and started yelling back at them. Then all hell broke loose. Kid got the worst of it, sad to say." The man explained, rubbing the back of his neck. Arria nodded and fought back the thought that maybe they had deserved it. Who yells at assailants when they're more than half-drunk?

"Do you remember anything about the people who attacked you?" she asked as she spared a glance for the man cowering in the corner of the tent. The kid really did look bad. Maybe he'll keep his tongue in check now.

"They were big guys. Young, too. No old geezers like me. Hell, none of them looked even half my age. I was mostly face down in the dirt, begging for my life when it happened, so I only got a quick look at them." The man looked disgusted and ashamed in himself. Arria gave him a supportive smile and patted his shoulder. It wasn't his fault that his young friend dragged him into a scuffle.

"Okay. I'll head back over to the King with your information," she reassured him.

"I hope you find the bastards that did this. If you want, try asking my friend Wayne over there about them. He saw more than I did."

Arria looked over the skittish kid and nodded. It wouldn't hurt to be thorough. She approached the man slowly.

"Is it true? Did the King really send you?" Wayne questioned, his eyes hopeful and bit more dilated than Arria would have like.

"He did," she assured him. "Anything you could tell me about what happened might help."

He screwed his face into a mask of concentration, his eyes closed and his lips pursed. "I don't really know what else I can add. They were a bunch of guys. Better dressed than most Freesiders, I guess. That help?"

She nodded. "Every bit helps. Thanks."

"Sorry I couldn't help more, especially since you're being so nice," said Wayne giving her a vacant smile. She felt a pang of pity. This guy wasn't very smart, was he?

"You did well. I'll tell the King," she smiled as she began to walk to the door.

"Hey wait!" he called. She looked back at him, her eyebrows pulled together into a look of concern. "I just remembered something! I might have heard one of the guys that attacked us call another by name. We had just about had it when one of them said 'Hey Lou, we gotta go'. At least I think he said Lou. It might have been something else. Now that I think about it, he said Lou-something. Something with a 't'. Tenant. That's what he called him Lou Tenant."

Arria's heart dropped and hoped that Boone hadn't heard that. NCR beating up drunken Freesiders? Something didn't add up. She thanked them for their time and fled. Boone and Veronica flanked her as they made their way to the main road.

* * *

The King looked surprised when she walked in and sat down. "Did you find anything out?" he asked quickly then smirked. "Or, are you just here to chat?"

She licked her lips. Why did he have to look at her like that? She wanted the purr a very indecent response but was silenced by the look on Boone's face. "The local men were attacked by soldiers. One of them was identified by rank."

The King leaned back and looked over at Boone. Arria tensed. He better not dare try anything. Attraction would not save him if he did anything to her sniper. The King hadn't noticed her body language, lost in thought as he was. Boone, however, had. He scowled at her, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Bunch of soldier boys, huh? They usually don't come around these parts since their big base is on the other side of the Strip. If they're comin' over here now, it's got to be for a reason. I didn't want to believe the rumors that they're looking to take over Vegas, but now…"

Arria held back a snort. Like that would ever happen. They might be able to take over Vegas but not for long. They could barely keep themselves afloat with what they already had. It would be the end of the NCR for sure.

The trio found themselves walking toward the Mormon Fort sometime later on yet another mission. Arria was getting antsy again. Why didn't she just go take care of Benny and then come back? Why was this so important? Boone wasted no time voicing her very thoughts.

"Why are we doing this?" he grunted, walking beside the courier.

"To keep the peace."

"You never struck me as a peace keeper."

She smirked. "I'm not. But, for once, this isn't about me. These people are worse off than we are. They need someone to stand up and do something. If not me, then who? Besides, Benny's not going anywhere. Yeah, I know. It kills me to say that."

"You should be proud of yourself," Veronica chirped. "You're thinking outside of yourself. Not many people do that anymore."

Arria snorted and shook her head. If only she felt like she had a choice about it. Every time she thought about leaving someone to fend for themselves, a voice in the back of her mind would scold her, berate her until she gave in and did the "right" thing. Maybe it was her conscience's way of atonement for whatever she did in the Legion. Too bad she didn't remember.

* * *

As they made their way closer to the Fort, Veronica became more and more flustered. It had quickly become her favorite place in Freeside. Sure, the smell could turn your stomach but the view…the view could make the meanest old man smile. And smile she did when the mohawk came into view. Julie Farkas smiled back and then looked over her companions.

Arria stood next to Boone, her arms crossed and her eyes quickly fluttering from one person to another. In her leather armor and big sunglasses, Arria was intimidating in an attractive kind of way. Almost as if she'd straddle you and strangle you at the same time then smirk about it. Death with curves. She wasn't Veronica's type though.

Boone stood with his arms crossed as well, a look of boredom and anger tattooed onto his face. One could call him attractive, if they had a death wish. Veronica had the feeling that he didn't take compliments well. Together, the pair looked rather intimidating. Veronica hoped she softened their edges a little as she made her way closer to the doctor.

"Hey there!" she said, greeting the doctor cheerily. Was her voice too cheery? Ugh.

Julie nodded to her, a smile reserved just for her, and then turned to her companions. Arria always tended to draw the attention of others. It was something in the way she walked and held herself.

"Do you know anything about NCR soldiers here in Freeside?" Arria asked, her voice throaty and lyrical at the same time. No use with introductions, huh?

Julie nodded, obviously not thrown off from her directness. "Only a little. A friend of mine, Major Elizabeth Kieran, has been handing out supplies to the poor a little west of here. What about it?" Just a friend? Veronica's heart dropped a little.

Arria looked practically unconcerned, but Veronica knew better. She never showed any kind of emotions…besides anger. She did show that.

"The King thinks those troops have been attacking locals," said Arria. This little tidbit did throw Julie off, but then she shook her head, her mohawk swaying slightly.

"I know something's got them riled up, but I've been too busy with other matters to really look into it," Julie conceded. "If you're looking into the matter, talk to Elizabeth. She's in charge of the operations here in Freeside, though she won't open up to you right away. If Elizabeth holds out on you, tell her that I sent you. She should be a little more forthcoming if you mention my name."

Arria nodded and turned to leave, Boone following. Veronica thanked Julie and hurried to catch up. "You stay here," Arria murmured, flashing Veronica with a cheeky smile. "I daresay you have some business here?"

And with that, Arria and Boone were gone. How did she know? Sure, Veronica may have been a bit obvious but not that bad. Was Arria just that good at guessing? She shrugged and turned around to help the Followers.

* * *

Shots rang out all around. Boone pulled Arria out of the way of a stray bullet and behind a wall of rubble. They stared at each other, panting from rushing over to the fight. This had escalated quickly. Goddamn it, Pacer. Why hadn't she shot him the first time they met? It would have saved a lot of time. She nodded to him, and they scrambled over to where the NCR citizens were huddled.

Elizabeth's face was lit by the flash of her gun. She looked pissed and a little scared, her hands shaking over her barricade. She caught sight of them and sighed.

"This isn't really a good time. What do you want?" she hissed as she ducked down. It seemed like the shooting had stopped for now.

"The King wants to help out with the relief effort," Arria said.

Elizabeth's face twisted in anger. "Like he helped the envoy we sent? No thanks."

Arria shook her head. Sometimes she wished she could make people just do what she wanted. It'd make life easier. She fought the urge to slap the woman. "That wasn't him. He didn't even know an envoy was sent," she insisted.

"Then he should watch his back. We know for a fact that the envoy made it to their headquarters. Still if the King's willing to deal with us, perhaps we can work something out. I'll tell my men to stand down."

Arria released a breath she hadn't known she was holding. Behind her, she felt Boone relax. She turned to look at him. "Next time I decide to help someone, slap me?"

He chuckled out of surprise, and then quickly covered it up with a scowl. "I'll just let you learn your lesson the hard way," he grunted.

"Well, let's go tell the King and find a place to sleep. What do you think about the fun part of town?" she said as they headed back toward the King.

* * *

Boone watched the courier and Veronica down shots, Arria's face winding with disgust. Veronica looked down at the table sadly and did another shot before Arria could recover from the last one. They sat at a table in the Wrangler while the ghoul on stage heckled them. Boone held his beer, deciding if he really wanted to drink it.

"I'm really sorry about Julie," Arria hiccuped. Right after the fight, Elizabeth had walked herself over to the Mormon Fort, grabbed Julie, and kissed her until they were both panting. They then snuck off somewhere and didn't reappear before Arria had decided it was time to leave. Veronica had been crushed.

"What did I expect?" Veronica shrugged it off. "It's not like I expected it to go very far. I would have liked it to, but I kinda knew, you know?" Veronica leaned her head on Arria's shoulder, and the courier patted her cheek. Boone felt uncomfortable. This was girl time. He shouldn't be there. "I've just been so lonely since Christine left."

Veronica had told them all about her lost love a few shots ago. Yeah, it was time for Boone to leave. They could stumble to their rooms on their own. He slipped away without being noticed by the two women.

"I know exactly how you feel. I wake up and feel like jumping anything that moves. And it's not just that. I miss…ha…I don't know. I don't know anything. I don't remember completely what I should be missing," Arria rambled. Veronica nodded along, taking another shot.

"I don't feel so good. I think I'm going to go to be, okay?" Veronica sighed, pushing herself from the table and nearly falling over. Arria watched her walk away with an ache deep in her stomach. She didn't have to be lonely. Not tonight. She knew at least one person who would be willing to keep her company. With one last shot, she headed out the door and down the road.

Somehow she managed to walk herself to the King's House of Impersonation and up all those winding steps without tripping too much. Her head spun, though. God she hoped this would be worth it. She hiccupped.

"Hey, Legs. What brought you 'round here this late at night?" asked the King, standing from his seat by the window. Rex barked hello. It seemed that the King was just getting ready for bed. He had no shirt on and pants that hung low around his waist. She followed the dark hair of his navel with her eyes until it disappeared below the fabric of his night pants.

"Just thought I'd pop in for a nightcap," she murmured, her legs slightly unsteady. She supported herself on the door frame, her hip jutting out in a seductive manner. He walked closer as his eyes swept over her.

"Looks like you've already had a few, Legs," he snickered, playing with a strand of her hair. He knew why she was here.

"Not enough to not know what I'm doing," she crooned. Arria moved until they were practically touching. They reached for each other at the same moment, bodies clashing and lips hungrily moving. Arria's heart rate soared. Being touched in such a manner sent a heady wave of desire through her veins. Her head swam as they made their way to the gigantic bed in the middle of the room, leaving a trail of clothes behind them.


	16. Chapter 16

So, wow. This chapter surprised me, and I'm really nervous about even posting this one! Hope you guys enjoy it!

* * *

"I'm never drinking again," Arria murmured as she opened her eyes. Her head felt like it was going to split open, and Vulpes still danced in her vision. Behind her, a male chuckled. She stiffened. Oh, god. That didn't really happen, did it? Her whole body felt sore as she rolled over. Oh, god. It did. The King's big hands caressed the bare skin on her stomach in circles. His hair was tussled and stuck up at strange angles. He smirked down at her with swollen lips.

"Did I bite you?" she asked, thumbing his bottom lip.

"Not just there," he chuckled, pulling back to covers to reveal numerous bite marks all over his body. A couple were crusted over with dried blood. She covered her face with embarrassment and laughed a little. Shaking his head, he gently pulled away her hands and placed soft kisses wherever he could reach. "That was the best night I've had in a while," he growled, getting to her neck. "You are very flexible, Legs."

She felt her face erupt with embarrassment. When did he start calling her legs? She let him pull her closer, the velvet of his sheets soft against her skin. He tucked her next to him, bare skin to bare skin, and began to kiss her deeper. Last night flashed before her eyes. Apparently, there were things that even a shot to the head couldn't be forgotten, and sex seemed to be one of them. She stretched her sore muscles. The King had been a very demanding partner, putting her through her paces at every turn. She was sure that every single king had heard them that night. She blushed again with just the thought.

Slowly, the sun came up over the buildings of Freeside and filtered through the King's window. Bathed in the light of early morning, Arria and the King brought in the new day with a repeat of the night before. Twice. Finally, Arria had to stop his advances by scrambling out of bed. She was ridiculously sore, and her companions, particularly Boone, would be looking for her. Ugh. She was not looking forward to him finding her. He'd want to know where she was, and if she told him the truth, he'd scowl until his face fell off.

The King watched her get dressed, even more bite marks peppering his skin. He sat up in his bed to get a better look as she pulled on her pants. When she looked at him, he motioned for her to come back to bed. She shook her head as she snapped her bra into place. He motioned with more force. She stuck her tongue out at him and pulled on her shirt.

"I'm not used to people making me wait, Legs," he growled playfully, pointing to the spot by him.

She laughed at him. "And I'm not used to people telling me what to do." With that, she blew him a kiss and skipped down the stairs. Every king she met on her way to the door smirked at her, as if they knew what she had done. The mess of her hair was enough of a giveaway, not to mention all the noise they had made before. Let them know. She didn't care. Just so long as the kept their mouths shut.

Arria ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to control the rat's nest that had grown over night before she went into the Wrangler. She sighed with relief when she saw that no one was frantically searching for her or sitting by the bar scowling. Francine Garrett, however, looked her over and shook her head as she quickly walked upstairs to her rented room. As her hand twisted on the knob, the door beside her opened. Quicker than she would have liked, she found herself face to face with Boone. She blushed.

"You're up early," he grunted. Her heart nearly beat through her chest. She really didn't want him to find out.

"Couldn't sleep," she shrugged, training her face to stay neutral. "I went for a walk."

"By yourself?"

"Yeah."

He sighed with frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why didn't you come get me?"

"You didn't sleep the night before. Besides, I was fine. Look, no scratches," she said, twirling so he could look her over. Half way through she thought better of it. There probably were scratches actually.

Thankfully he didn't comment on it. Instead he shook his head and scowled. "Don't go out alone again." She looked at him incredulously. Who the fuck was he to tell her what to do? She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his head again. "Please," he added.

Arria blinked. For once, she was speechless. What the hell was wrong with Boone? She blinked again. Did he really just say please?

"No promises," she mumbled as she pushed her way into her room. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it with her eyes closed. What the hell? She sighed. Things were so much simpler when she traveled alone. She had no one to answer to; she could do as she pleased and deal with the consequences on her own. Arria sighed again and opened her eyes to find Veronica sprawled out in the bed. Oh yeah. They were supposed to share a room to save on caps. Hopefully she was so out of it she hadn't noticed that Arria never came up.

She pushed herself away from the door, her muscles protesting, and stretched. God the King was rough. She must have been out of practice. She followed that train of thought as she made her way to the shower. When she stripped down, she noticed red marks and bruises beginning to form all over very personal parts of her body. She snorted. Thank the gods that Boone didn't have ex-ray vision.

As she stepped into the shower, Arria cursed in Latin, the hot water tensing her already sore muscles. She submerged herself under the steady stream and reveled in the steam. Slowly, each muscle group relaxed until she was practically a blob of tranquility. Despite her guilty conscience, last night had been exactly what she needed. She wasn't nearly as stressed as she had been. How long had it been since her last sexual encounter? Three years? The only time she could remember was when she was with Vulpes. As great as that had been, three years was far too long.

What she did was natural. She wasn't attached to anyone…well that she knew of, and it would never happen again. Well, not with him. It had been fun, but Arria felt deep down that she wasn't just looking for a fun time anymore. She stopped scrubbing her scalp in surprise. When had that happened?

Arria gently patted herself dry as she stepped out of the shower. The red marks had pretty much disappeared while the bruises were on their way to clearing. She shook her head. Despite everything, it had definitely been worth it. It was a nice reminder that she was still a woman. Yes, men stared, but they never did anything about it. She had missed feeling desired. Their little tryst would hold her over for quite some time.

Apparently, it hadn't been enough for the King, though. When Arria finally walked down to the bar, there were a couple of kings waiting for her. They smirked when they saw her and turned away from Francine. She quickly looked around, searching for anyone she was traveling with before she walked over to them.

"Well, hello there little lady," one of the kings said loudly. "The King wishes to send his regards. You did quite a number on him."

She blushed and pursed her lips. "Do you mind keeping your voice down? That was meant to be private."

"Didn't sound like it from our end," the other one chuckled. She fought the urge to choke them.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, or did you come here to laugh?" she snipped, crossing her arms. Francine was looking at her with interest. She didn't like it.

"The King also said he'd like to see you again tonight. Alone. He wants to talk to you about something."

"Tell him that I thank him for his hospitality, but that I must respectfully decline. I have a lot to do." And with that she shooed them away before one of her companions showed up. She leaned against the bar. What had she started?

"So you slept with the King?" Francine asked. She cringed.

"I plead the Fifth," Arria mumbled, turning to face the woman. She chuckled appreciatively.

"Well, you could have done worse," the woman reassured. A moment of silence passed before she opened her mouth again. "So, what are you here for, besides a booty call?"

"I'm heading to New Vegas. I have a score to settle."

"Don't we all?"

Arria snorted and accepted a bottle of water from the barkeeper. The woman looked her over. "So, do you have enough caps for the credit check? Or do you already have a passport?"

Arria groaned. Both sounded really expensive. "How much is the credit check?"

"2,000 caps."

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, spitting out her mouthful of water. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I joke around?" Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, and her face was permanently angry. No, no she didn't.

"Fantastic. Just great," Arria sighed as she cleaned up her spilt water.

"You know, there are a lot of people around this area that need help. You might want to check them out. I actually have some work that needs to be done, if you are so inclined," Francine propositioned.

"Do tell."

* * *

Veronica woke with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. How long had she been out of it? She groaned as she sat up. She was most definitely never drinking again. How did people enjoy it? It had only made her more emotional. Her head swam as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Maybe a shower would help.

The water was only luke warm when she finally managed to crawl her way out of bed and to the shower. Shrugging off her clothes, Veronica hopped into the shower without even caring. She wouldn't be there for long anyways. Thoughts of Christine bombarded her. How long had it been since she had actually thought about her? She had always managed to push them down or shrug them away. But seeing Julie and Elizabeth caused a ripple effect that she couldn't just shake off.

Veronica walked down to the bar twenty or so minutes later to find Boone and Arria already sitting at the table. They were deep in conversation, closer together than Veronica had ever seen them. It wasn't like she was sitting in his lap or anything, but Boone would normally keep people as far away as possible. Arria was within arm's length of him. Neither looked like they noticed it. Great. Third wheel again.

Arria looked up in time to see her reach the bottom of the stairs. She waved at the scribe with a smile and motioned for her to join them. Boone scooted back as she arrived. His face was set in his normal scowl, which caused Veronica to grab his beret and put it on herself.

"I'd really like my beret back now," he growled as he glared at her. Arria snickered as Veronica ran to the other side of the table. He'd have to come get it.

Boone held out his hand expectantly then looked at Arria for support. She hid her laughing behind her bottle of water as Veronica continued dance around with his beret. He sighed and got up, ready to pounce. As Veronica passed by the courier, she snatched the hat off her head and threw it at Boone.

"Okay, children. We have work to do," she smiled, as Boone fixed his beret back on his head. Veronica sat next to Arria with a smirk still dancing on her lips. Maybe things would be ok after all.

"So, I've learned that we either need a passport or enough caps to get into the Strip. Now, Boone still has his passport from when he was with the NCR which means that we have to come up with some serious caps to get in. Now, there are supposedly a lot of people here willing to hire people like us. All we have to do is find them. Francine has indicated that she has work that needs to be done. And I remember that The Crimson Caravan is probably looking for some help as well," Arria stated, all business.

"What's Francine's job?" Veronica asked.

"Debt collection. Three of them, which means that we can get it done faster if we all split up," Arria said quickly. Boone's eyes flashed dangerously and his face instantly said 'no way in hell'. The courier held up her hands.

"The sooner we get all of this done, the sooner we can go shoot Legionaries," she reasoned, her face a mask of calm. Boone scowled deeper obviously torn by the proposition. "We'll meet back here in one hour. Nobody can get into too much trouble in one hour." Why was she blushing? Veronica narrowed her eyes at the other woman. Did something happen?

"Fine," Boone growled. Veronica nodded as well. Smiling, Arria assigned them each a target. Veronica got Lady Jane; Boone got Grecks, and Arria got Santiago. After debriefing them on their individual assignments, Arria wished them luck then left at top speed.

* * *

"Well hello there, Legs," the King greeted as soon as she walked into the auditorium. With a flick of his wrist he sent every king in the room away, leaving them alone. He rose from his chair and captured her in his arms. "I didn't expect you until tonight," he murmured with his nose in her neck.

"As much fun as that was, I'm not here for that," she purred as she pushed him away a little. He smirked at her. "I'm here to talk to you about something."

"What can the King do for you today?" he asked, pulling her close again. His lips ran along her jawline and sent chills down her spine.

"I need a favor."

"Baby, after last night, you deserve the moon," he whispered. Her eyes closed and she fought back a moan. This wasn't going like she expected. She extracted herself from his arms; she needed to be able to think.

She took a deep breath. Asking for help was so not her style. "Okay. Remember that I traipsed all around Freeside dealing with missions that you sent me on."

The King smirked and came closer. "You did that to get free water for Freesiders."

"I did the first mission for that. Everything after that was credit. And you still need to fix that!"

He chuckled, lacing his arms around her waist. "I know, Legs. I'm working on it. What do you need?"

Her body literally ached to kiss him. He was being so sweet. No, she didn't want to someone's one night stand. "I need a way to get into the Strip without completely breaking my caps bag."

The King chuckled into her neck. "I can arrange something. Is that all that you need, Legs?"

"Yes," she said forcefully, pushing him away. A look of confusion streaked across his face as he took a step back.

"What's wrong? I thought we were gonna have a little fun?"

"I'm sorry. It was very enjoyable. But, I can't do this."

"Is it because of that soldier boy that's always following you around all the time?"

Arria almost laughed in confusion. "What?! Boone? God, no!" Her voice was a little too high for her liking. She cleared her throat and continued. "No, this isn't about Boone. I just can't be in a thing that isn't going to go anywhere. A one night stand isn't what I need right now…no matter how good it was." She felt like she was telling herself just as much as she was telling the King.

He nodded. "Yeah. I ain't the settling type anyways." His voice held a hint of sadness. "Besides, I need a little time to heal. You're rough, Legs." She chuckled. He was taking this better than she expected. She sighed with relief.

Ten minutes later, Arria found herself staring at a very slimy individual. His smile made her skin crawl. His suit looked crumpled and dirty, yet he seemed to be cheerful as he looked her over. She had the over whelming urge to punch him.

"How are you today? Santiago is fabulous," he chirped, coming a bit closer. He smelled like cheap cologne.

"You owe the Garrets a bunch of caps," she growled, her eyes narrowed in disgust.

"Santiago does not owe anyone. Santiago is a Freeside VIP," he said, his voice somewhere near incredulous. He talked to her as if she were a confused little child. There was that urge to hit him again.

"Irrelevant. They would have briefed me with that information. You have to settle this debt with the Garrets," she dismissed him. She didn't have time for this. She only had twenty minutes to get back before she looked suspicious.

"Ma'am, Santiago told you. Santiago has no debts," he insisted, waving his hand. Arria took a deep breath and looked at him, her eyes slits.

"I'd rather not kill you, but Francine put a bounty on your head," she growled.

His eyes widened comically, and the smile slid off his face. "I didn't think she was upset enough to have me killed…Here are the caps I owe," he pleaded, his voice losing that syrupy property that she despised. She smirked. She may even be early.

* * *

Boone waited for Arria and Veronica outside the Wrangler. People milled around, avoiding his gaze because of the beret on his head. It was nothing he wasn't used to. The people in Novac would do the same thing, even before Carla was taken. They would hear their all-out fighting matches and elude him at all costs. After Carla was taken, he didn't care anymore. Nothing mattered. God, the number of nights he had his rifle in his mouth…countless. It would never end that easily, though. It never did.

He took one last drag and then stomped out his cigarette. What Arria didn't know wouldn't hurt her. He still wasn't exactly sure why he had stopped smoking around her. Maybe it was something in the way she looked at him when she asked him not to.

"Hey, soldier boy!" someone called. He looked up to find two men in leather jackets standing at the end of the road. Great. Kings.

"What?" he grumbled. They came closer, swaggering the whole way. Boone couldn't remember if he ever swaggered. If he had, it had only been when Carla was on his arm.

"The King sends a message," one said, pulling out a switch blade. Boone pushed himself out of the leaning position he was in. What the hell?

"I'm all ears."

"He says he doesn't appreciate the fact that he lost to you. Take care of her or our next visit won't be so pleasant." With a stabbing motion, they left him alone. He scowled at their retreating forms. What was that about? Losing? Take care of who?

Arria walked around the corner. His would-be assailants waved at her as she passed them. When did she become so friendly with them? She smiled when she saw him waiting and picked up her pace.

"I take it yours went well?" Arria grinned at him. He shoved the caps at her. This had something to do with her. Her smile faltered as he continued to scowl at her.

"What did the King lose to me?"

Color drained from her face, and her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Those guys delivered a message from the King."

She gritted her teeth. "Oh, really? Wait for Veronica. I'll be right back," she growled. With a spin of her heels, she was stomping her way back up the road. Fuck this. He wasn't waiting for Veronica. He was going to find out what was going on.

"King!" Arria shrieked, as she slammed open the door. Everyone around her grabbed their weapons, ready in case she snapped. She made a very rude gesture as she passed. Boone followed, completely unnoticed. They walked into the auditorium to find the King leaning against the stage. His bottom lip was swollen and there were bite marks on his hands.

"What's up, Legs?" he asked, nonplussed. The way he looked at her made Boone angry. He didn't completely understand why. And when did he start calling her Legs?

"Was that completely necessary? Really? Do you feel like a big man now?"

The King raised an eyebrow and watched her. Boone could have been a fly on the wall for all the attention he got. "I was just getting a point across," the King explained, folding his arms over his chest.

"Never mess with him again. I mean it! And as much as I appreciate your concern, I can take care of myself. This is not your place," she warned, her hands balled into fists.

"You're adorable when you're mad, Legs," he murmured, placing a lock of her hair behind her ear. Boone stomped forward and stood in front of Arria.

"I think she wants you to leave her alone," he growled.

"Look at this: soldier boy's playing hero. Must be a new feeling for you," the King sneered at him.

Boone scowled, his hands curling into fists. Arria put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm fine, Boone. Go back to the Wrangler. I can handle this," she whispered

"Just leave her alone," Boone warned.

"She came onto me. Last night. Three times. Remember that, soldier boy. And remember my warning," the King said before he walked away.

Boone blinked. What was this feeling? No, he didn't care. He followed her to find out what had happened and boy did he. He shrugged off her hand and ignored her shocked expression as he left her standing alone in the auditorium.

* * *

Oh, god. What just happened? Oh, god. Oh. God. WHAT just happened? Arria's head spun. Boone stomped further and further away from her, and yet, she couldn't make herself move. It was as if her feet had become roots. She was released when she heard the front door slam.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** This chapter is actually a bit dark. It deals with suicidal thoughts and child abuse. I warn you before you read.

* * *

Boone crashed into his room followed by a flustered Arria and began packing. Everything he crammed into his pack, she pulled out, begging him to just stop and listen. She didn't even know why he was so upset.

"Boone, will you please just listen to me?" she pleaded.

"There is nothing to say," he grunted. He grabbed the shirt she was clutching and threw it in his pack. She stepped back, crossed her arms, and watched him.

"Why are you so upset?" she asked quietly. Boone stopped for a second, his hands shaking. "I am an unattached female who had one night of human comfort. I repeat, why are you so upset?"

"I did not leave Novac to walk the Mojave for you to get one night of human comfort," he grunted as he continued to pack.

"We were staying here while we took care of business. I was drunk and made a mistake. But if that is how you feel, go. I will not stop you," she sighed. She was done trying to explain herself. "Thanks for coming this far." She smiled sadly at him.

Boone groaned in frustration and turned to face her. "Why did you sleep with him?"

Arria blinked in surprise. "I was lonely." The excuse seemed stupid even to her. In light of everything that had happened thus far, it seemed inferior, but she couldn't find any words to really explain why she did it. Chalk it up to animal magnetism. It was a poor choice, true, but she was done being berated by him. It didn't even really affect him, anyways.

Surprisingly, Boone barked out a laugh. "Join the fucking club." He sat down on the bed and leaned back. Arria hesitantly sat next to him. "So, why does the King think he lost to me?"

Arria chuckled. "He thought something was going on between us because I told him we couldn't see each other anymore."

"Why did you decide to break it off?"

"There was nothing to break off."

They sat in silence. Slowly, Boone's breathing calmed down, and his fists unclenched. Arria released a breath she didn't know she was holding and pulled her knees to chest. For some reason, she wanted to touch him, make sure he was ok. Instead, she turned to look at him. With a jolt, she realized that he had very vivid green eyes. They were bright, like Vulpes', and yet angry, even when he was relaxed. His ghosts lurked so close to the surface, caged by the many walls he had built over time. If she looked close enough, she could almost see his anger boil.

"What are you staring at?" he grunted. She jumped and looked away. Her cheeks suddenly felt really hot. Did she really compare him to Vulpes?

"Nothing. I'm going to check and see if Veronica's here yet," she mumbled, quickly getting up and leaving the room. She leaned up against the other side of the door. Maybe traveling alone again wasn't such a crazy idea after all.

When she made her way downstairs, Veronica was indeed waiting for her. Her eyebrow quirked in interest when she realized where she had come from. Arria was relieved when she didn't ask any questions. She wouldn't have any kind of answers to give even if she had. Instead, Veronica just passed Arria her caps and smiled. She could have hugged the scribe. They found Francine, turned in their loot, and got their share.

"If you're looking for more work, my brother might have something for you. Go ask him," Francine advised, putting the caps in her pocket. They thanked her for her advice and went back to the bar to talk to the barkeeper's brother.

"So, should we grab Boone and head out?" Veronica asked, pulling on her pack. Arria slowed down. No. No, he should get some time to decide if he wants to stay or not. Besides, she needed some time to think as well.

"We've got this," she mumbled as she made her way outside.

* * *

Boone stared at his half full pack. He could go back to Novac, get his old job back, and live where he still had memories of Carla. Then, when he couldn't take it anymore, he could walk to Cottonwood Cove and take as many Legion bastards out as he could. What more could he ask for? It was going to happen eventually. He was just delaying the inevitable by hiding behind this little adventure. There had been times when he didn't sit around and wait for the inescapable truth. His mind drifted to the last day that seemed to matter.

God, he could remember every single step away from that awful place drenched in the metaphorical blood of his dead wife as if were yesterday. He could still see Carla with the iron sights zeroed in on her face. He could still remember his hands shaking as he debated with himself. He could still remember her face turned toward his direction as if she could feel his presence. He could still remember her eyes falling on him and the subtle nod of her head. That had been the only thing that stopped his shaking. The shot still rang in his ears. Her falling form still hung suspended behind her eyelids. He couldn't even stay to watch her hit the ground.

Boone came back to himself to find his nails digging into his face. His sunglasses lay abandoned beside him on the bed. He unclutched his hands and tried to control his erratic breathing. It had been a while since he had actually visualized it. The hardest thing was constantly reliving the day his life came crashing down around him. Mostly, he pushed it down until it was a vague pain in his stomach. But, no matter what he did, he couldn't deny the fact that it had been his fault. If he hadn't dragged that beautiful woman into the karmic fuck up that was his life, she would still be alive. She would have married some other guy, had a couple kids, and most of all, she'd still be smiling that smile that continued to haunt him in his dreams.

With a sigh, Boone pulled himself up. He couldn't take it anymore. It was time to keep moving. But, where to go? That was the question. If he went back to his old life, he'd have no escape from the all-consuming urge to end it all. If Boone stayed with Arria, he'd have to deal with men constantly ogling her. Not that that should really bother him. It didn't. It did not bother him that men felt the need to gaze at her as if she were for sale. And it certainly didn't bother him that she used that against them to meet her own means. Why should it? It's not like he had any claim on her. She had said it herself: she was an unattached female. She would do what she wanted. With a sigh, he realized he might as well find her before she got into too much trouble.

When Boone finally made his way downstairs, he found the place deserted. Only a few gamblers milled in the empty space. Boone felt himself scowl. Now what was she up to? Francine noticed him glaring and motioned for him to come to the bar.

"Looking for Legs?" she asked. Boone glowered harder. Was that nickname really going to stick?

"Yeah," he grunted.

"She's running an errand for my brother. Looking for some new hooch apparently," she explained.

"Great," he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. That woman would be the death of him yet.

* * *

Veronica giggled uncontrollably beside a bemused Arria. The sexbot stood in front of them in all its glory. Veronica stepped away from the keyboard to get a better look. It was a good thing that Ralph had some spare time to write up the program for it. She had a feeling Arria's new influence over the King had something to do with it.

"Fully Integrated Security Technetronic Officer active and reporting for duty," it droned, its claws spinning and clicking.

"That's a mouthful. Let's shorten that to Fisto," Arria said, before she thought about what she said. She shook her head. Sadly, the name fit. Veronica nearly exploded with giggles.

"Yes, ma'am. Fisto reporting for duty. Please assume the position," the robot demanded as it took a step toward her. Arria's mouth fell open, and Veronica laughed so hard she nearly rolled on the floor.

"What?! No!" Arria declined indignantly. Her face burned.

"I am programed for your pleasure. Please assume the position," the robot demanded. Great. Now she was being accosted by a robot. Was her day going to get any weirder? If only Boone was there to see it. On second thought, maybe it was better that he wasn't. They needed the robot intact after all.

"My pleasure is for you to work at the Atomic Wrangler," she assured it.

"Yes, ma'am!" it said as it began its journey to its new job. Arria almost felt sorry for it. James, at least, was going to be very happy with their find. Despite his best efforts to seem nonchalant, Fisto had been the part he had been most excited for.

Veronica busted out in uncontrollable laughter. Her mirth was contagious, and before she knew it, Arria found herself giggling along. Soon enough, they were leaning on each other to keep themselves upright.

"We-we had better get back," Arria panted, out of breath from laughing so hard. Veronica nodded in agreement as she wiped a tear away. They linked arms and made their way out of the building, making an effort to skip around the dead rat bodies.

As they exited, Veronica shaded her eyes from the rays of the setting sun and gazed ahead. Arria noticed her head tilt and looked in the direction she was staring. A man with a red beret and a pissed off expression was making his was closer to them, his back straight and his arms swinging slightly. Had he made up his mind already? Her stomach jumped nervously. If he was coming to tell them he was leaving, Arria would accept it without question. It was his prerogative. He could do what he wanted. Secretly, she hoped he wanted to stay. Despite what she wanted to believe, it was nice to have a male presence. And she'd miss their little quips.

"I thought I asked you not to go out alone," he growled as he walked up to them. He glared down at Arria.

"And what am I? Chop suet?" Veronica protested.

He ignored her. "Why didn't you come get me?"

"You had packing to do," Arria snipped. Why did she always have to do that? Wasn't she glad he was staying? So why did she have to push?

"I'm staying. You'll get yourself shot again if I leave. You tend to piss people off."

Arria laughed mirthlessly and crossed her arms. She had so many things to say that nothing came out. All she could do was sputter nonsense. Finally, she gave up.

"Fine," she said as she walked away with her head help high and her hair bounding angrily. God, that man was infuriating. Veronica caught up with her and linked arms in a show of support while Boone followed silently behind them. He could hear the scribe tell Arria that she didn't piss her off and the resulting chuckle.

They made their way to the Wrangler around mid-day to find Fisto walking around, accosting the customers. James Garrett was practically beside himself as he watched the robot wobble around. He wasn't even trying to hide it at this point. With a smirk firmly in place, Arria walked over to him and leaned against the bar.

"So, I see you noticed the sexbot," she murmured as she rested her head on her hand.

"Hot damn! I've been looking for one of those for years!" he whispered in amazement. Behind them, Boone shuffled uncomfortably, and Veronica stifled a bout of giggles. Arria saw the realization of what he just said flash across his face. "For my customers, I mean…I'm not into that kind of shit," he amended quickly as he straightened up and smoothed down his jacket.

Arria nodded, attempting to reassure him with a look. "I understand. But, the thing is, Fisto's a heavy-duty piece of equipment, built to last…" She trailed off to watch the wheels work in his mind. Pretty soon, he was nodding in excitement.

"You're right, you're right! Something like this, it's worth a little extra because it's going to keep on satisfying you…those disgusting fetishists, I mean. Something wrong with someone if they got to fuck a machine." James practically salivated as he passed her one hundred extra caps along with her cut of the fee.

"Fisto is already programmed to respond to your commands," Arria purred. James practically threw another fifty caps at her.

"It is? It will? My god! Imagine the possibilities! It didn't happen to come with an owner's manual, did it? Aw, forget it-trial and error should do it," he said, breathless with excitement. Arria left him to enjoy his real life fantasy.

When fresh air hit her face again, Arria turned to her companions. Boone still had an awkward look on his face, and Veronica's cheeks were red. She folded her arms and shook her head at them.

"Who are we to judge?" she asked.

"And who are you to take advantage of another man's vices?" Boone quipped back.

"Everything comes at a price, especially if you show how much you want it," Arria shrugged. It was a philosophy that had been beaten into her. Who beat it into her, however, she couldn't remember.

* * *

That night, Arria laid in their rented bed, thinking. Veronica had already passed out, and Boone was supposed to be resting. After they had left the Atomic Wrangler, they recruited the other two people needed to finish up their business with the Garrett twins. Veronica had been iffy about returning to the Mormon Fort, so Boone and Arria had dealt with the dominatrix ghoul while Veronica recruited the smooth talker. Poor thing had to deal with Santiago. Needless to say, Arria was ready to leave, especially if that slime ball was going to be hanging around. But, at that particular moment, business was the last thing on her mind. No, it had drifted to her childhood of all places. A quick moment of pain was the only predecessor to her flashback.

"Stop crying," a harsh voice barked beside her. In front of her, a line of twenty tribal boys trembled beneath the gaze of their teacher. "I said stop crying!" The boys all shuffled around as the stifled their sobs. They were all around the same age, but Arria felt infinitely older. They were still new to the ways of the Legion.

"Arria," he teacher snapped. She straightened her back and stared straight ahead. "Teach these boys the meaning of pain." She knew better than to question her teacher's requests. She had learned the hard way. Instead, she stomped forward and drew herself to full height. She met each one's eyes as she walked among the line, deciding who would be first.

A scrawny boy looked back at her with defiance in his blue eyes from under a mop of black hair, and she smirked at him. He would do. Without warning, she punched him in the stomach. Instead of doubling over, he made a motion to punch her. She quickly moved out of the way and used his momentum to drop him. She pounced, landing knees first into his chest, and wailed on him until he called for mercy. She let up as he started to bleed.

"Did I tell you to stop?!" the teacher demanded. She shook her head and continued her assault. He attempted to throw dirt in her eyes to distract her from the boy that was about to attack. She ducked his foot as it came for her face, and pulled him down by his ankle. She jumped off the scrawny boy to attack the pudgy one lying next to him. She beat his head into the dust. He cried out for help in his native tongue in between thumps. Soon enough, every boy in the line attempted to land a hit on her.

"Enough," her instructor called as she felled her last assailant. She stood with her back straight as every boy behind her moaned in pain. "Pathetic," the teacher spat. "You were defeated by a girl!"

Apparently, the scrawny boy hadn't given up. He crawled up behind her, hoping to surprise her from behind. She kicked him in the face as he reached for her boot. He rolled over, finally defeated. She hovered over him, waiting to see if he would attack again. He coughed up a bit of blood and motioned for her to leave him alone. She straightened back up.

"Arria, you are dismissed. Caesar wishes to see you." She nodded and headed up the hill towards Caesar's tent.

"Ave," she mumbled to the guard at the front of the tent.

"Ave," he said as he looked her over. He sniffed as if she were the most impertinent brat in the Mojave and let her pass.

"Ave. True to Caesar," she declared as she kneeled before the son of Mars.

"Come here dear child," he chuckled. She stood and walked closer. "How old are you now?"

"I am now eight, my lord."

"Such a delicate age," he tutted. Her father suddenly appeared over Caesar's shoulder and watched her. She knew better than to acknowledge him when the eyes of Caesar were upon her. Instead, she met his gaze and nodded, even though she wasn't quite sure where this was going. "Such a high spirited lass. You will be our surprise to all the profligates."

"Yes, my lord," she agreed. She so wanted to please him. To please the son of Mars was a blessing on her and her family.

"Your father has indicated that you have surpassed your peers in training. Is that so?"

"Yes, my lord."

"How did they take it?"

"Not well, my lord," she murmured. Drawing attention could be dangerous.

He chuckled appreciatively. "No, I suspect not. Keep up the good work, and you may be able to join your father in a hunting party one day. We all have very high expectations of you." His tone was very serious, as if she could even think about doing anything other than her best. She nodded.

"Joshua, you can take her back to your tent now," Caesar dismissed. Arria was quite confused. That was it? She was pulled from class to be told to keep up the good work. Something wasn't right. She stared at the son of Mars. Her father cuffed her in the back of the head.

"Let us go, Arria," he snapped, practically dragging her out of his tent.

Her father didn't stop pulling her until they were behind their tent. She eyed him warily.

"Your teacher said you hesitated when a boy called for mercy," her father seethed. How did he even know about that? That happened like two seconds ago.

"Father, I-"

"I don't want excuses. It looks like the lessons have not completely sunk in yet. You do not show mercy, and you do not show emotion. If you are going to be taught as a boy, you will be held to their expectations. What I do now if for your own good, and more importantly the good of the entire Legion," her father explained as he rolled up his sleeves and pulled out his revolver. Arria's heart raced. Not this again. She thought she had been doing so well! Nonetheless, she took her beating in silence. The sounds of the butt of his gun as it struck her skin reverberated throughout the camp.

Her mother found her soon after in a heap of herself, still bleeding slightly. Most of her other slashes had healed. Her mother looked her over and shook her head, blotting her rapidly healing cuts with a cold cloth. After a wound healed, she would gently brush her lips across it, as if she could take all her daughters pain with such a simple gesture. When Arria had healed completely, she hugged her daughter close and told her that everything would be okay.

Arria pushed her away. She was the reason she was weak. She deserved what her father had done to her. It was her duty to bear it and learn from it, not be coddled like a baby. She growled angrily at her mother and ran away as fast as her legs would take her.

Veronica's snore brought Arria back to herself. As soon as she remembered where she was, she began to breathe again. Her skin tingled as if it were trying to heal from her memory's wounds. It had felt so real. Every detail had been crisp and vibrant, not blurry like some of her earlier ones. Had she not known it was a memory, she would have sworn that it had just happened. Arria tried to stop her heart from racing. It was just a memory for crying out loud!

She ended up leaving her room. The walls had begun to get too close, and the air was far too warm for her. She snuck past Boone's door and down the stairs. She just needed some air and to see the stars. Being inside for long periods of time never sat well with her.

"What are you doing out here?" a gruff voice asked her as she practically vaulted out the door. She turned to find Boone leaning against the wall of the Wrangler with a cigarette between his lips. She scowled.

"I could ask you the same question," she snipped. She didn't want anyone around as she tried to sort out her feelings. He flicked the cigarette and turned to face her. Behind his scowl, there was a hint of concern. She hated the way his eyes swept over her, as if to make sure she was okay. Lust she could handle. Concern was a whole different game.

"You ok?"

She snorted and hugged herself. Emotions prickled at her eyes, but they remained completely dry. "If I said yes, would you believe me?"

"No."

"Then, yes, I'm okay."

He scowled and took a step forward. She tensed. He was too close for her comfort. He reached out and, to her surprise, patted her shoulder once. His face screamed awkward, and she cracked a smile. Boone's attempts at comfort were funny enough to let Arria take her first deep breath since she came back to herself. She gave him a quick hug and retreated back inside, leaving him bemused and alone.


	18. Chapter 18

Arria woke before the sun, restless and agitated. Her dreams made her want to run-and run far. The hurt on her mother's face had replaced Vuples' visit that night, and she couldn't take it. Some strange feeling was rattling around in her. It wasn't sadness, nor was it anger. It left an ache like guilt, but compared to what she felt whenever she looked at Boone, she knew it wasn't that. She growled. Stupid emotions. When did she start with that shit?

She wrenched herself out of bed, frustration coloring her actions, and pulled on her street clothes. Some of her energy needed to be expended quickly before she pulled her hair out. She stared back at Veronica's sleeping form as she debated on whether or not to her sleep. No, it was alone time for sure. Boone would get over it.

Her feet carried her out of her room and down the stairs before she could decide what exactly she was going to do. As the chilly pre-dawn air met her face, she began to jog, no particular place in mind. Physical activity was a sure-fire way to shut her mind up-or at least let her focus on something that didn't hurt so much.

She passed buildings that had crumbled into disuse and people who matched their city. This place needed a direction. It was as if it were a wounded person that had just given up, and waited for death. Sure, there were still a few cells willing to try to salvage what they could, but the majority didn't see the point. It was sad at best. She looked around as she jogged. She could do something. She could make things better. Prove she was more than a puppet of the Legion.

Maybe that was what was bothering her. How could she be Legion? How? It just didn't fit. She obviously did not do well with authority, and weren't the Legion all about licking Caesar's boots? _You were, too, at one point_, a vicious little voice whispered in the back of her mind. She scowled. Well, something must have changed. Was it her father's death? And what ever happened to her mother? Did she even know? Or did Arria push her so far away that she stopped trying? If that were the case, she couldn't blame her.

Arria ran past a king on duty. He watched her pass with a look of appreciation on his face and winked when she looked up. She shook her head. No. No more emotions or one night stands. They just complicated her already messed up life. Besides, she apparently had to answer for every little thing she did. Boone wouldn't let a new indiscretion pass without another freak out. So not worth it. He was too good to lose. Despite everything, he made her feel safer. As soon as she realized that, guilt knotted in her stomach. She was ex-Legion. She was everything he despised. Could she ever be completely honest with him? She snorted. Not if she wanted to have only the one hole in her head. Sadness wrapped its dark arms around her. That was one secret she had to take to her grave. She would never be able to be herself around the people whose lives were entwined with hers. She abruptly felt very isolated, almost like an island.

Suddenly, there was something else to concern her. The hairs on the back of her neck shot up, and she looked around. She was being watched. A war cry came from behind her, allowing her to move just in time. The man flew past her, his momentum pulling him forward. It was a local with a lead pipe gripped in his grubby hands. He stopped and came at her again, swinging wildly. Dodging his would-be blows and using the rising sun to her advantage, she snuck close enough to wrap her arm around his scrawny neck and squeeze. At first, he struggled violently. Then, his lead pipe hit the ground with a dull thud as his hands lost grip. He followed his weapon a few seconds later with only the whites of his eyes showing. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to finish the degenerate off. Twist his head off and leave it for other degenerates to look at. Instead, she forced herself to walk away, her mother's voice in the back of her head.

Passing the criers on the street corners, Arria jogged down the road toward the Wrangler only to stop short when she saw a tense figure leaning against the outside wall. Smoke trailed above the red beret of Boone as he smoked angrily. She sighed and continued forward. Time to face the music.

"Are you going to make this a habit?" he growled as she walked closer. He took another drag, refusing to look at her.

"Probably," she retorted, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. As the sun climbed in the sky, so did the temperature. He scowled at her, and she grinned in return. "At least I keep you on your toes." With that, she tweaked his nose and walked into the shadow of the Atomic Wrangler. He followed her, obviously not ready to let it go.

"Where were you?" he barked. She sighed and turned to face him. Were they really going to do this right here in front of everyone?

"I went for a run," she shrugged as she folded her arms. She hoped her tone would end the conversation.

"And you didn't come get me?" he snapped. She ran her hand her hand through her hair. A quick as he could, Boone reached out and grabbed her hand. A cut was just beginning to heal and a line of blood was drying. Ugh. The bastard must have scratched her. Boone looked so beyond pissed that he didn't even care that he was touching her. "Did you get into a fight?"

"He attacked me," she mumbled. She couldn't look at him. Every time she did, all she could think was 'ex-Legion' 'ex-Legion' 'ex-Legion'.

"Where's the body?"

"He should be walking around any time now."

Boone raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You let him live?"

"Yes."

"Hmm," he scowled. "Did he hurt you?"

"No. I didn't even know he cut me until you pointed it out. Can I go take a shower?"

He released her and nodded. She walked past him without another glance back. That was not nearly as bad as she had expected.

Arria came back down twenty minutes later to find Veronica and Boone sitting at their normal table as far apart as they could. She shook her head. What had she expected? They were nothing alike. Boone was angry, moody, and hard to understand. Veronica was the sunshine of the entire group. Oil and vinegar in every sense. Boone looked up as if he knew she was staring at them and scowled at her.

She walked up to them and smiled. "Okay guys. Francine has some work, but we can't get that done quite yet. It requires us to get into Vegas. So, maybe we could check by the Crimson Caravan and see if they have work?" she proposed. They nodded in agreement. "Okay, well, let's get going then. We can grab our bags and-"

"Have you eaten yet?" Veronica interrupted. It took a few seconds for that question to register with Arria. It seemed so inconsequential considering. Veronica motioned for her to sit down. "I'll get you something to eat."

Arria took the seat next to Boone still trying to figure out why they weren't moving out. Boone watched her face with a look that she could only guess was amusement. "She did that to me, too," he muttered, taking a drink of his beer.

"You're drinking?"

"One for the road," he grunted. Arria tried to shake the feeling that she had caused him to drink. It seemed too narcissistic to be a possibility.

"Are you drinking because of me?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. Boone looked at her from over his sunglasses, and his mouth did something weird. Was that a smirk? It made his face look so different. Almost…approachable? She was temporarily mesmerized.

"If I say yes, will you stop?"

"Nope," she chirped.

"Then, no," he grunted. His smirk faded as Veronica walked back over with food in hand.

"Now, we're not going anywhere until you eat everything on the plate. I hardly ever see you eat!" Veronica clucked.

"Yes, mother," she mumbled as she picked up her fork.

After she ate as much as she possible could, Arria grabbed her pack and headed out before anyone could think of anything else they needed to do. She was around the corner before Boone or Veronica caught up with her. Veronica was still trying to put her powerfist on correctly as she strode beside the courier. Boone glared at some kings as they passed.

"So, how'd you guys sleep?" Veronica chirped merrily. Boone just grunted and adjusted his pack. Arria opened her mouth to reply but found nothing to say-nothing she was willing to share at least. The scribe was undeterred by her companions silence and chattered on about the dream she had. Arria vaguely heard the words "monkey wrench" and "sexbot" before she decidedly tuned her out. She had thought about sexbots enough to last her a good, long while.

The Crimson Caravan was hardly an hour away, and Veronica talked the whole way. She even chattered over the radio on Arria's pipboy. "So, then the alien scurried over the rocks and disappeared. Oh, look we're here! I'll tell you guys the end when we head back," Veronica said, as they approached the gray, concrete walls.

As soon as the group walked in, Arria began her normal search for danger. Boone and Veronica waited while she assessed the situation. She found nothing more than a few caravaners so she nodded for them to continue, still keeping her eyes peeled just in case. As far as she knew, this was an NCR oriented service operation, and just knowing that set her teeth on edge. Someone could recognize her, especially if Caesar's plan had succeeded even a little.

"Arria?" someone called. She could hear the astonishment in their voice from where she stood. She scowled. They sounded so familiar. A man about average height walked up to her with a vast grin on his face, while the people behind him whispered. She barely made out the words "finally" and "stop obsessing" from their whisperings. And then it struck her. The man grinning at her was the man that had started her adventures in the Mojave. Ringo was standing in front of her beaming up at her. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Goddamn it.

"Hey, Arria. I'm glad you made it here okay. How have you been?" he gibbered. The group he had come from was staring at her with immense interest.

"Oh, you know. Surviving. And you?" she asked, following the rules of social curtsey.

"Here are the rest of the caps I owe you," he smiled, shoving caps into her hands. She looked at him, slightly confused. "So, do you want to stay and hang out a bit? We just got a good shipment of whiskey in. If you want some I'll split some of my share with you."

"Oh," she sighed. Boone stiffened beside her. Great. "I really appreciate it, Ringo, but I'm here on business. Thanks, though." She tried to walk pass him, but he stopped her again.

"I can help you. Alice can kind of be a pain. Follow me," he gestured before he turned and started to walk. Arria chanced a glance back at her companions before she followed Ringo. Boone was glowering at Arria with his arms crossed, and Veronica was waving at the people who were staring at their group. She gave an awkward smile in Boone's direction before she followed Ringo into the next building.

"Hey, Ms. McLafferty, I got a friend here looking for work," Ringo said, walking up to a desk. The woman behind it looked over Arria as if she were tumbleweed that had just blown in from the Mojave. Arria brought herself up to full height. She wasn't used to being scrutinized in such a way. It took all her restraint to not slap the snooty woman sitting before her. Instead, she tried to smile graciously.

"Why should I give her work? Does just flaunting in here constitute me giving her work?" the woman sniffed as she continued to eye Arria.

"I can talk for myself," she growled. She put her hands on McLafferty's desk and looked her straight in the eyes. "Whatever you need done, I'm your girl. No job is too big. Just give me a shot."

The woman raised an eyebrow, as if she were considering Arria. "Fine," she sighed. "I'm afraid we have no current openings for caravaners of guards, but I'm in need of a runner."

"I'll take it. What do I need to do?"

* * *

Arria and her companions left the Crimson Caravan as soon as they could. Ringo had practically insisted on coming with them. She did everything but break his legs to get him to stay. Boone was still glaring suspiciously at her, as if he thought she had slept with him too. Please. He was far too weak for her taste. Instead, she ignored her scowling companion and led the way to Camp McCarran.

As they made their way closer, the group was passed by a row of jogging NCR soldiers who were all sporting the same berets as Boone. As soon as they saw the sniper, they stopped and greeted him like an old friend. Arria stepped aside and let him have his moment. Instead, she decided to find some way to amuse herself. She glanced back at Boone as she rounded the corner.

"Hey!" Veronica called as she was halfway down the street. Arria stopped to let her catch up. "Where are you going?"

"Boone looked like he could handle it, so I was going to look around a bit. A little reconnaissance of the area," she explained. "Wanna come?"

"Sure." And with that, they continued down the street. It was a peaceful, slightly boring stretch of road that Boone would have thoroughly agreed with her walking on without him. Arria snorted. So much for entertainment. She thought about heading back until a bullet whistled past her ear. She grinned. Perfect.

Within seconds, she had her rifle out and began aiming. The person she had in her sights dropped after she pulled the trigger. In her peripheral vision, she watched Veronica run toward a man wielding a baseball bat. She didn't have time to watch her friend, however. A woman with pupils the size of full moons rushed toward her with a knife. If she wanted to play hand-to-hand, then that was what she was going to do. Arria dropped her rifle and waited for the woman to get close enough. When she was within arm's length, the woman lunged toward her, knife extended and eyes wild. Arria parried to the left until she was behind the confused woman. Quickly, the courier brought her leg up and kicked the woman as hard as she could right in the middle of her spinal cord. A satisfying crunch echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings. She then took both of her hands and punched her sides, right above her kidneys.

The woman dropped to her knees, groaning in pain. Arria then moved onto a man who was running up to her. She dodged a stray bullet and tackled him as hard as she could. She wasn't going to waste any fancy moves on him. Instead, she wailed on him until she was pulled off him, his blood dripping from her knuckles. She spat down at his still form and struggled against the iron grip that was holding her in place.

"What are you doing?" a voice from behind her growled. She stilled. That voice was supposed to be talking with long-lost friends, not holding her back. She turned her head until she looked straight into her own reflection.

"Nothing," she said, as she kicked the man at her feet. Boone lifted her up and pulled her away. She hung limp in his arms, knowing that resistance would be futile. Soon, she was facing a smiling Veronica, bloody lip and all. Arria grinned at her before she was carted away. The scribe followed, skipping with happiness.

"What were you thinking?" he growled, putting her down at the street corner next to Camp McCarran. His friends crowded around them, settling in for the show. Arria frowned and folded her arms.

"We were just walking," she insisted. Veronica nodded in agreement behind her. Boone tried to stare them down. Arria glared back. She refused to be intimidated.

"And the Legion are just misunderstood," he snapped. Arria closed her mouth and bit back whatever she was going to say. He had kicked her without even moving. Guilt blossomed deep in her stomach. She looked away before he could see the emotions swirling inside of her.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, not knowing exactly what she was apologizing for. It was probably not about the fight, if she were being completely honest. He stepped back in surprise.

"Did you just apologize?" he asked, his voice disbelieving. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, is that so hard to believe?"

"Do you even know what sorry means?"

"Of course I do!"

"Could have fooled me!"

"Do you really want to push me right now?" she growled. They stood face to face, breathing heavily, and glaring angrily at each other.

"Okay, guys. You are just a bit emotional right now. How about we separate for a second?" Veronica suggested as she tried to get in between the feuding pair.

"What, so she can run off and get into another fight? I don't think so," Boone snarled.

"Why would I need to run off? There seems to be a perfectly good fight right here!" she snapped, balling her hands into fists.

"Now kiss!" someone in the crowd yelled. Everyone broke out in laughter, and the tension was broken. Boone stepped back and folded his arms. Arria stood there panting in anger and guilt. They glared at each other before she pushed her way through the crowd and stomped her way toward the military base.


	19. Chapter 19

Ah! We've surpassed 2,300 views! I'm so proud! I just want to take this moment (I promise it'll be quick) and thank you all for reading! And ask that you send me some feedback. I'd really like to know what you all think about where this is going, what you'd like to see, ect. I would really appreciate it! Okay, on with the chapter.

* * *

Arria fumed all the way into the base with Veronica following her. She didn't care if Boone was behind her or not. Who the hell was he to question her apology? It had been sincere, if not a little misguided. It was hard enough to let those words pass her lips without him making it worse. Couldn't he have just accepted it and moved on? Why did he have to question it? She growled out loud, earning a concerned look from Veronica.

"Are you okay?" the scribe asked.

"Peachy," Arria barked through gritted teeth. "That man is infuriating!"

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly a walk in the park," he growled as he caught up with her. Arria ignored him and picked up her pace. His long legs kept him beside her easily.

Arria walked into the building and stopped short. It took a second for her vision to adjust to the darkness of the room, but when she finally could make out details, she saw that there was a plane hanging from the ceiling and rows of broken slot machines. The vaulted ceiling barely let any light in, causing Arria to feel trapped. The air was musty and warm as it coated her tongue. Her pulse quickened. She hated this place.

Boone cleared his throat and pointed toward the stairs. Arria nodded and began to walk in that direction. When she started to climb the stairs, he grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her in the right direction. She mumbled her gratitude and walked to the door underneath the stairs. As she entered, she was greeted by a woman in a lab coat.

"Dr. Hildern?" Arria asked.

The woman shook her head. "Through there, sugar," she said, pointing to another room.

The courier nodded and followed her gaze. Inside was a middle-aged man who didn't even stand up when she approached. Arria cleared her throat, subtly giving him another chance to acknowledge their presence.

"A pleasure to meet you!" he said, still not standing up. "I'm Dr. Thomas Hildern, Director of Operations, OSI East. I presume you're here about Vault 22?"

"Actually, I have an invoice for you from Alice McLafferty," she said, pulling the invoice in question from her belt and handing it to Hildern. He stared at it questioningly as if it were laced with disease simply because it came from her belt. She waved it in his face. For crying out loud, it wasn't like she pulled it from her underwear.

"From Alice? I'll see that she gets paid right away. Crimson Caravan runs a tight operation, even out here in the waste. Wouldn't do to keep them waiting." He finally took the piece of paper and placed it on his desk and went back to work. When they didn't move out fast enough, he glanced back up at them. "Was there anything else? Or were you just here about the invoice?"

"For now, just the invoice. I may be back about that job," she said before she turned to leave. Smiling a goodbye to the woman in the lab coat, Arria rushed through the rest of the building and out into the open air. Veronica and Boone followed moments later to find her sucking in deep breaths of fresh air. That place really freaked her out.

"Hey, slugger!" a deep voice called from within the camp. Arria looked around, quickly composing herself. A man sporting a beret identical to Boone's made his way over to her. His brown eyes were distrustful and angry, yet held a bit of respect as he looked up at her. As always, she was a bit taller. He was accompanied by a man with tired eyes and an impressive beard.

"Can I help you?" she asked, eyeing them. Something inside her was crawled with anger at being addressed in such a way. _Insipid profligate_ a tiny voice seethed. She shook her head and stuffed it far away. Thinking that way was not going to help.

"Maybe you can. I'm Sergeant Bitter-Root, and this is my father Major Dhatri. I was just telling him about your little scuffle outside," the younger man said. She refused to look at Boone. She could feel the scowl on the back of her neck.

"Did you really sever a spine with one kick?" Major Dhatri asked her skeptically as he eyed her with doubt.

Arria gritted her teeth. She could show him if he wanted. Instead, she just nodded. "Yes, I did."

"Well, then, maybe you can help us…if you're interested."

"What do you need?"

"How would you feel about taking out some Fiend leaders? We have three bounties that need to get done."

"What have the fiends done to me?" she asked, a little nonplussed. "I'm no mercenary."

Bitter-Root and Dhatri looked at her as if she were crazy. "You were fighting Fiends. They gave your friend a bloody lip," Bitter-Root finally said.

"Oh," she acknowledged. She hadn't cared who they were. They were just dangers that needed to be removed…and a bit of exercise. But that was beside the point. "Sure. Who do you need killed?"

* * *

Arria watched as the Fiend's head exploded. She lowered her gun triumphantly. They weren't too far from Violet, and she didn't want too many distractions. The more of these assholes she killed on the way there, the less she'd have to deal with on the way back. Boone looked at her a nodded, as close to a 'good job' as she'd get. She shrugged off the feeling of happiness that sprang up inside of her with his acknowledgment and continued to look through her scope for targets.

"Okay," she whispered to her companions as she checked her pipboy. "We're getting close. I want the dogs taken out first, without injury. No getting shot or bitten. Then, we need to make sure her head is undamaged, which means no head shots and no punches to the face. Understood?" They nodded. Veronica looked a little green, and Boone's face was tight. She smiled at them. "We got this guys. We just need to be safe."

With one last nod to her companions, Arria sprinted closer to Violet's trailer park. The sound of angry dogs echoed in the air between them. She could hear the irate ramblings of the Fiend in question, incoherent sentences stung together by drugs. The courier took aim. With a squeeze of her trigger, a dog dropped. She aimed again. Another dog dropped. Violet looked around, confused and angry. Another dog dropped. Boone reloaded his gun. Everything was so methodical, so precise. Veronica took out two more dogs, and everything was suddenly quieter. The only sounds to be heard were Violet shooting wildly into the air. A bullet went wide as Arria moved closer.

The courier dodged another bullet as she moved up the ramp. She could almost smell the fear radiating off the Fiend as she got closer. Violet's gun had jammed, and she was beginning to panic. Her eyes were wild as she searched for an escape route. Predatory urges compelled Arria forward, trapping her victim in her own home. Violet dropped her gun and pulled out a knife. She waved it wildly as Arria came closer. The courier smirked a blood thirsty smirk and pounced, grabbing her knife hand and her throat at the same time. The Fiend fell to the ground with Arria on top of her. She slammed the Fiend's hand above her head until she released the weapon. The woman sputtered underneath her grip, struggling for air. Arria tightened her grip and crushed her wind pipe completely. Below her, the woman asphyxiated and expired.

"Who wants to take the head?" Arria asked as she crawled off the dead woman. Veronica shook her head, a look of slight disgust coloring her face a deeper color green. Boone also shook his head, his expression completely unreadable.

"Fine," the courier mumbled as she pulled her knife from her pant leg and straddled the dead Fiend again. With extra care, she severed the head, warm blood coating her hands. She stood, minutes later, with a decapitated head dripping from her hands. The look of horror permanently engraved onto the dead woman's face. Arria began walking back to McCarran without wrapping the head or putting it away.

Everyone stared at her when she walked into the base. The blood had dried on her hand and cracked when she moved. The head swung with every step. She felt disgusting, both inside and out. The rush of adrenalin still coursed through her veins, but she couldn't shake the feeling of primal pleasure at the sight of an enemy's blood. She hadn't wanted the fight to end. She had wanted to play with her, let her believe she had a chance at making it out alive. She had wanted to torcher her, paint her house with her blood and put her screams of pain on repeat. Her urges had disgusted her enough to end it quickly.

Boone walked next to her. "You okay?" They passed a cluster of soldiers without glancing at them.

"Peachy," she sighed, her voice a bit shaky. He grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him.

"What the hell happened back there?" he questioned, eyeing her.

"I don't want to talk about it right now. Can we just get this over with?"

"Fine," he said, his tone telling her that their conversation was not over. Fuck.

He moved in front of her and led the way, almost shielding her from the curious glances that were thrown her way. Gratitude washed over her. She thanked whatever was up there for that man. They trudged their way over to Dhatri. He looked them over with approval as the approached. She threw the head into his hands.

"Goddammit. That's Violet, all right. You've made me one happy son of a bitch, you know that?" he grinned, staring down at the head he held.

"Glad I could help," she sighed.

"Here. This is the bounty I put on her head. It's yours," he added as he handed her 250 caps. She let Veronica take them.

"So, who's next?" Arria asked.

After the Major had finished explaining the task, the courier walked up to a short little man in metal armor. He was beating a dummy that was at least double his height. Arria cleared her throat, only to be ignored. Her anger boiled just below the surface. Before she thought about what she was doing, she jumped in front his next blow and landed one of her own on the dummy. It flew back against the truck it was standing in front of, its limbs flying of in every direction. He looked at her with astonishment.

"Oh, no. Did I just ruin your exercise? I'm sorry, but we have to talk," she growled, turning on the bounty hunter.

"Let me guess. You have work for me?" he asked, his twitchiness evident. "Well, you're too late- I just quit the bounty trade. Soon as I pick up some caps that Dhatri owes me, I'm out of this scrapyard."

"No, I don't have work for you," she growled. "Major Dhatri said I should ask you about Cook-Cook. Apparently, he's tough?"

"The rapist with the flamethrower?" he squeaked. "Yeah, that's a combination that I stay the fuck away from. I was stalking him for a while. I'm real good at that. Watching people from where they can't see me, you know? Only one thing I learned about that asshole. He keeps a bunch of Brahmins. Most of them he roasts whenever he feels like it, but there's one…must be his pet, or some shit. Doesn't let anybody near that Brahmin. Somebody puts a bullet in her, I bet that'd piss him off good. Might make him careless, too." Arria walked away when he finished without a backward glance. This was going to be fun.

* * *

"Ok. I think we need a bit of strategy for this," Arria murmured as she faced her team. They huddled around her, just outside Fiend territory. She stared down at her pipboy, plotting a course.

"Yeah. We need to keep away from this one. Crispy just doesn't look good on me," Veronica quipped. Arria had to appreciate her humor at a time such as that.

"Alright, if he's a clear shot we just take aim and fire. Sound good?" Arria suggested.

"What if he's not in range?" Boone asked, scowling.

"Then, we'll have to draw him out," Arria stated simply. She avoided Boone's gaze. "Let's get going."

"Wait, how are we going to draw him out?" Veronica balked.

"We'll figure something out. I don't know the layout yet."

"So much for strategy," Veronica mumbled as she followed Arria forward.

A few minutes later, they were crouched far enough away from the broken down building that housed their next target. Arria eyed it with a critical eye. She watched as the Brahmin grazed, her mind working in overdrive. If they did need a diversion, Veronica would be the logical choice, considering she practically had no long range capabilities what so ever. However, just the thought of that rapist getting his hands on her made Arria crazy. No way in hell was she going to let that be even a possibility. If they needed a diversion, she would go. She just couldn't let them know.

Arria used hand signals to let her companions know they were moving in. She nodded to Boone, telling him to take the shot on the Brahmin. As it fell, a horrible, gut-wrenching sound pervaded the air, and gun fire erupted from inside the crumbling building. They took cover, carefully aiming every shot, but she still couldn't see Cook-Cook. She sighed.

She'd give him a couple more shots before she ran in there. One. Female Fiend went spinning with a shot to the head. Two. A man with a messy beard flew backward, blood spurting from his neck. Three. Woman's eye exploded. Four. Five. Goddammit! Arria rushed out from behind cover, dodging the few bullets still flying. She heard Boone and Veronica roar behind her, but she kept going. She was going to get this motherfucker for Corporal Betsy. She just had to draw him out.

She shot Fiends as she passed them until she made it to the ruins. Pressing her back to the crumbling wall, she snuck her way toward an opening. Her heart raced as she turned a corner and climbed over some rubble. Out of her line of sight, Arria heard debris shifted slightly. She pressed herself into an impossibly small hole, every so often peering over the lip of some rubble. Cook-Cook came into view, his finger pressed on the trigger of an evil-looking flamethrower.

"Come out, little killer. I know you're out there. I can feel your anger," said the Fiend, his voice gravely. His words came out fast as if he were hopped up on some strong chems. She held her breath, pleading with her heart to stop racing. She hated fire…at least when it was used against her. A bullet wound could be shrugged off. A burn, no matter the size, seared angrily and refused to be ignored. She had hoped to have a little more distance between her and the pyro.

As if following the sound of her heart, Cook-Cook came up behind her and put a fist in her hair, pulling her up by tender threads. She gritted her teeth to stop from making a sound. He brought her face close to his, looking her over with a critical eye. She spat in his face and kicked out as hard as she could. He dodged, laughing in her face. She was not some defenseless dame, goddammit! She wasn't going to let this guy win!

"I like you. You're going to be fun," he chuckled as he shoved her against the wall. Quicker than she would have guessed, he pinned her arms above her head with one of his hands. She felt his other hand run over her, poking and fondling at her private areas. When he got to the area below her belt line, however, she kicked again. He dropped to his knees, holding his private area and wheezing in pain. She adjusted her shirt and aimed her knee at his face. By the time Boone and Veronica crawled over the rubble and toward her, she had removed his head and was holding it triumphantly. She turned to ask them if it looked too damaged when Veronica stomped up to her and punched her square in the jaw.


	20. Chapter 20

As I was writing this, I saw that the view count for this month was 2,281. Made me smile. Reviews also make me smile *hint hint* :) No pressure though. Lol.

* * *

The cool Mojave night stretched around Arria as she watched the embers of their camp fire. Boone and Veronica slumbered nearby. The courier glanced over at them. Her jaw still hurt a bit from where Veronica had punched her, and the angry speech she had given still rang in her ears, causing the scene to flash before her eyes. She had screamed and ranted. Then, out of nowhere, she had gathered a bemused Arria in her arms and sobbed. Boone had glared at her. He still hadn't said more than a sentence to her. That had been a week ago.

After finishing out the bounty list and taking care of what she could in the area she was in for McLafferty, they began their long journey toward the Mojave Outpost. Arria looked down; dried blood still caked itself under her nails. She had taken many showers since then. The sight filled her with mixed feelings.

Part of her saw them as trophies. The other side, voiced by her mother, was ashamed. She had enjoyed what she had done. She had reveled in the blood. She had worn it like a second skin. With an unconscious shiver, Arria brought her knees to her chest. Suddenly, she felt very cold, despite the fire. What kind of monster was she?

"Go to sleep," Boone grunted as he sat next to her. She nearly jumped out of her skin. How the hell was he always so goddamned quiet? She glared at him. He avoided her gaze.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She hated herself for what she was about to say.

"What?"

"I'm…sorry," she grumbled, the words tasting like vinegar. "For the fight by McCarran. That was totally my fault. I shouldn't have endangered Veronica like that."

"Or yourself."

"Or myself. But let the record show that I didn't have a scratch on me, and that I was doing just fine. You had to pull me off," she reminded him. "That was the first time I've even been pulled off anyone."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Generally, they would end when the other person was dead or I got bored, whichever came first." She didn't know where all of this was coming from; it had just felt true.

He turned to her, his eyes searching hers over his sunglasses. She wanted to look away, needed to look away. But, something told her to stick with it. "Are you serious?"

"That's how it is in the L…Mojave," she stumbled over her words. Oh dear god, was she about to admit she was Legion. She felt the color drain from her face. "This desert is tough, you know?" He didn't look away. She couldn't break eye contact.

He grunted and looked away. "Apology accepted."

She released a shaky breath and ran her hands through her hair. It was time for her to get away from him before she said something stupid. Or admitted something potentially hazardous to her health. But, there was one thing that still bothered her.

"And about the Cook-Cook thing-" she started. Boone glared at her.

"Apology. Accepted," he said firmly. She scowled at him. She wasn't going to apologize. Not even close. She had done what she had thought was right at the time. Simple as that. She was going to tell him to get over it. But, he wasn't angry at her anymore, and she didn't want to chance it. So, she half-smiled back at him before she crawled into her bed roll. A dull pain pounding in her head accompanied her to bed that night followed by another piece of her past.

* * *

She threw a fake punch at Vulpes' smirking face. When he ducked, she brought her other hand around and landed a hit on his chin. He staggered back. He mouthed the words "dirty trick" to her before he blew her a kiss. She smirked back and reassumed the fighting stance. Before he could blink, Arria had surpassed his defenses and curled herself within his arms, kissing his neck for the kill. He laughed and held her tight.

"Good job," he murmured into her ear. Laughing, she pushed away.

"Wish I could say the same to you," she quipped, skipping out of his reach. He crouched as if he were going to chase her, only to stop with a wary look on his face. He was staring past her. She tilted her head, questioning him with her eyes.

"Gather round! Gather round all those who can hear my voice! It is time!"

She turned to find a young man standing a few feet away, a small crowd beginning to engulf him. For reasons unknown, her stomach knotted with fear. What was it time for? She looked back at Vulpes. His eyes were steel and avoided hers. What the hell was going on? He nodded for her to look forward.

"Caesar has commanded a crucifixion!" the man cried out as poles were carried behind him. Two men slowly beat the cross firmly into the ground. Arria's mouth went dry. "For the crime of polluting a soldier's mind with profligate thoughts, this wench will be crucified!"

A naked woman was pushed forward, her form slumped over in pain from the oozing gashes on her back. Arria shook her head violently as she pushed he way to the front of the crowd. No! There must be a mistake. Caesar wouldn't do that to her. He didn't know what they had spoken of! He couldn't have. Nonetheless, before her stood her mother, bleeding and shaking. Her cheekbones protruded horribly as if she had been starved. Blood seeped from her temples. She looked calm, however, as her eyes met Arria's.

"Remember, Arria, you must strive to make this world a better place, like we talked about," she whispered hurriedly. "And always remember that I love you. Don't forget that." Her voice was stronger than her brittle body. One of the men slapped her across the face and told her to keep her filthy mouth shut before smirking at Arria. Vulpes came up behind Arria and grabbed her arms, just as she was about to attack. She struggled angrily, trying to flip him off her. More men helped to hold her down.

Her eyes stung with unfamiliar emotions as she watched her mother get strung up and beaten mercilessly. Not a sound passed the older woman's lips. Her daughter did enough screaming for her. Only after they were done did Arria realize she was crying…actually crying. Her mother hung limp from her restraints, her breath rattling in her lungs. Slowly, she lifted her head to gaze at her daughter. Through the blood, her cracked lips curled into a benevolent smile; then, her eyes rolled back and she passed out from pain. A sound tore from Arria's chest that she had only heard from dying animals as she threw three people from her. She was going to get her mother down. She had to.

"And so you don't get any ideas about rescuing her," one of the guards snarled as they pulled her mother's head back and slit her throat. Blood painted the front of her mother and seeped into the thirsty ground. Arria screamed and kicked as Vulpes tried to drag her away. Finally, she threw him and ran for her mother. She quickly untied the frail woman and held her in her arms.

As she pushed a strand of her mother's hair back, she closed her eyes. That woman had been the only thing right in the whole world. She had taught her daughter to be more than a tool for destruction. Now, Arria had no one. She was alone in a sea of crimson. She sobbed harder, unable to catch her breath. As her mother's blood soaked the Earth, the little humanity that Arria had possessed leaked out of her until she stopped crying. Slowly, she rose, her head held high. She lifted her mother's limp body and carried her to the nearest fire. With one last hug, she threw her mother into her funeral pyre. Arria watched her burn with dead eyes, her mind still.

* * *

The courier came back to herself, blinking back the prickle of tears. She put a hand over her mouth to suppress a sob and curled into a little ball in the middle of her bed roll. Her shoulders shook with the effort of subduing her emotions. She didn't even understand what exactly she was feeling. It wasn't anger, not entirely. No, there was definitely an emotion there that she couldn't name. All she knew was that her heart hurt. Every beat felt like it was collapsing in on itself. God, what was this?

A sob escaped despite her best effort. She froze, hoping Boone hadn't heard her. Her eyes squeezed shut as he shifted uncomfortably. Just stay there, she pleaded silently. She didn't want to explain to him why snot was dripping from her nose. She couldn't exactly explain it to herself. Ugh. She felt weak. Her tears rolled hot down her cheeks and filled her with shame. What happened to the "no more feelings" thing? That worked real well.

Arria wiped all the fluids from her face and wrapped her arms around herself. A breeze blew in from the mouth of her bed roll, drying what she had missed. The smell of the smoke drifted around her, and the sound of Boone's even breathing cushioned her ears. She listened. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly, her eyes drooped. The lullaby of his breathing sent her off to a quiet sleep.

She woke a few hours later, her bladder pulsing. Her eyes practically had to be pried apart. Fucking tears. Arria stretched and burrowed out from underneath her bed roll to find Boone still on watch. He was scowling into the fire, but his gaze told her he wasn't actually there. He was having a memory attack. She knew that far off look. Shivering from the cold Mojave air, she pulled herself completely free and left him to his reminiscences. He had given her the courtesy of privacy during hers.

She walked as far away as she thought prudent. At least if Boone came back to himself, she would be within shouting range, and this time she had a very valid excuse. As she began to undo her armor, the hair on the back of her neck bristled. She was being watched. Dammit! She had left her gun back at camp. She glanced back at the fire. It wasn't too far away. Maybe she could go get it. But, she stopped. Something was different about this. She looked around, narrowing her eyes.

"Traveling with a sniper now?" a voice behind her murmured. She froze. Her blood began to sing with just the thought of that voice. Her cheeks grew hot as she slowly turned around.

"Vulpes?" she whispered, her voice wavering. Her hands began to shake as he stepped into her line of sight. His ice blue eyes latched onto her face and his lips curled into a heart stopping smirk. Her body wanted to fly to him, throw itself into his arms. Her mind ordered temperance.

"The one and only," he hissed. His steps were silent as he walked closer. She searched his face, looking for the telltale signs of his emotions. His nostrils were flared, and his lips twitched. Besides that, he was unreadable. Soon enough, he was close enough to feel her warmth. They looked each other over. He slowly reached for her hand, holding it up to his eyes. "You have been killing."

It wasn't an accusation, just a statement of truth, but it made her mouth run dry anyways. He tutted, his eyes dancing wickedly. "Always so messy," he purred, bringing each of her fingers to his lips in turn. Her body flushed with something she wished she could have ignored.

"Life's too short to be clean all the time," she murmured, her eyes watching him hungrily. "I learned that the hard way." Where the hell did that even come from?

He nodded, gently moving her hair to the side to look at her scar. Running his hand gingerly over it, he pulled her closer until his breath was hot on her neck. His lips trailed the length of it. His kiss didn't feel like one born out of need. It was tender and careful, as if he were afraid he would break her. She trembled.

In the distance, she heard Boone cough. Her eyes snapped open. Vulpes was dressed in Legion crimson. So stupid, she chided internally as she pushed him away. His hands grabbed at hers, his eyes pleading. She shook her head.

"You have to go," she urged, pulling her hands away. "If he finds you, he will kill you."

"Let him try."

"I'd rather he didn't. You mean something to me. I'm still trying to figure it out."

"You're trying to figure out what I mean to you?"

"Long story short, I don't remember anything because of the jackass that shot me."

"I could remind you," he murmured, pulling her close and capturing her lips with his. Her legs gave way, and she fell against him. His lips melded to hers, sparking old emotions to shimmer just below the surface. Boone began to call for her.

"Please," she pleaded. With what little self-control she had left, she pushed him away. His eyes shone with a mixture of emotions before he nodded slowly.

"Fine," he sighed. "But, I'll be watching."

"Just go," she implored before she walked past him and back to the camp.

* * *

The courier stared at the monument in front of the Mojave Outpost. No matter what the distance, it still looked pretentious. She shook her head as she helped disable camp. It was a false advertisement. Maybe if the two figures were sitting there talking to each other for eternity. Hell, she had gotten more done in a week for the NCR than they had in a month, and all she did was kill a few key players within the Fiends. It hadn't taken man power, just will power, which they had none of. But, she shook her head again. Not everyone in the NCR was like that. Look at Boone. She did and smiled unconsciously. Noticing her stillness, he turned and frowned at her as if to say "get moving". Tweaking his nose, she sauntered passed him to grab her pack. He was funny when he was awkward.

The trio continued their walk in silence. Veronica, for once, was quiet, probably from her guard shift. Boone was his normal stoic self. Arria was…well, she felt different. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and her heart still hurt. She was doing her best to push down all the confusing emotions that she didn't quite have names for, but it was hard. How did other people deal with emotions? She wanted to talk to Veronica, ask her about it. Every time she opened her mouth, however, words would flee her mind. Instead, a little voice would sneer that she was acting like an over-emotional woman. She blinked.

"So, how long do you think it'll take before we get there?" Veronica asked, walking beside her.

"About half a day."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Arria kept her eyes on the outpost. No matter how many steps they took, it seemed to stay the same distance away.

After a moment of silence, Veronica began to jump up and down. "Let's play a game!"

"A game?" Arria asked skeptically.

"Have you ever heard of I Spy?" Arria shook her head. If it would stop her from thinking about Vulpes, then she was all for it.

Turned out, I Spy was damn boring when played in a land with so few things to see. By the fortieth time Veronica said "I spy with my little eye" Arria was ready to strangle her. At least she wasn't thinking about Vulpes. As soon as Veronica fell silent, however, Arria searched the surrounding area for any sign of his crimson backside. She didn't know if it was because she was afraid Boone would spot him first or if she just wanted one more glimpse of him. It was a toss-up.

Thinking about Boone and Vulpes in the same thought made Arria dizzy. They were two hemispheres of her life that she never wanted to merge. Ever. Boone was her spotter, her companion, her unlikely friend. Vulpes was…complicated. That situation was best left alone until she had the emotional maturity and proper knowledge to deal with it. She shook her head and forcefully pushed those thoughts far, far away. Now was definitely not the right time to think about those sorts of things.

Instead, she engaged Veronica in conversation. The woman perked up with the attention. Maybe Veronica was dealing with some things as well? Arria filed that away for later girl time, if Boone would leave them alone enough to have any.

By the time they reached the Mojave Outpost, Arria felt like she knew the scribe a little better. Boone, however, looked grateful to get away from them for a bit as he made his way to Ghost's roof without haste. She waved at his retreating form and headed for the building that housed the bar. She stopped dead in her tracks, however, when she saw who was sitting at the bar. Vulpes smirked at her, wearing the suit of a gambler. Every woman in the bar, including Cass, eyed him with appreciation. Arria stared daggers at him. He was playing with fire.

She walked over to the redhead, doing her best to ignore his bright blue eyes. She sat next to her and ordered a water. Cass finally acknowledged her presence.

"Looking for trouble?" the redhead asked, her words slurring a bit.

"Looks like I already found it," she quipped.

"Don't you forget it," Cass smirked back.

Arria shook her head, taking a drink of her water. "Actually, the Crimson Caravan sent me; they want to buy out your caravan."

Cass leaned back, her eyes narrowing. "They want to buy Cassidy Caravans? Don't they know it's burned to ash?" The courier opened her mouth to respond, but Cass continued. "No…even times being what they are, not sure I'm looking to sell, not even for all the whiskey in Reno."

"Even with practically nothing, you're not willing to sell?"

"If someone came up to you and offered you a thousand caps for your name, would you take it?"

"Considering I don't remember who the fuck I am, yeah, probably."

"Point is, I made the caravan what it is, and it's mine."

"Will you just look over the offer letter?" Arria entreated, pulling out the letter from her pack. Cass scowled at it as if it were insulting her mother.

"Alice McLafferty, eh? No, I see the zeros…I know she's good for them," she spat. "But it ain't about the money. Like I said I made it what it is. It's the one thing in the Mojave that's mine."

"Well, if that's the case, then you're responsible for killing it," Arria blurted out before she thought. Cass turned as red as her hair as she faced the courier. Her fists were shaking. Arria saw Vulpes tense out of the corner of her eye.

"What did you just say to me? Cause you sure as hell have my attention now." Cass' voice was low and dangerous. Arria met her gaze and refused to look away.

"You needed some god dammed perspective. I may be honest, but at least I'm not blinded by pride," Arria growled, just as low and dangerous.

Finally, Cass sighed and looked down at her full shot glass. "That's fair," she mumbled. "But there's been that voice inside me saying the same thing, and whiskey wasn't killing it. Give me that paper; I'll put my name to it. No sense trying to hold the past between your fingers when it's nothing but dirt." Cass signed it quickly, before she changed her mind and practically threw the pen at Arria. The courier caught it easily and sighed.

"You're free to leave the Outpost now. You're not being held back by your caravan license anymore."

"Yeah. I feel kind of relieved actually. Guess I didn't realize how much I was carrying around with just the name."

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Arria felt kind of bad for that low blow, but it had been for her own good. Cass had been wallowing in self-pity, drowning self-loathing with whiskey. Now, she had the chance to start again. The courier looked at the redhead. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Arria shook hands with her new companion a few minutes later. It hadn't taken much convincing. She was probably lonely. Arria couldn't blame her. Loneliness was a bitch. As they all started talking, the courier snuck a glance at Vulpes. He lifted his glass to her and brought it to his smirking lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She suppressed as return smile and turned away. A few minutes later, she looked back. Ugh. He was still staring! People were going to start to talk. That was the last thing she needed.

She scowled at him. Did he seriously just gesture for her to follow him out? Even if he did, she wasn't going to go. She was going to sit right where she was and enjoy her present company, maybe even get to know Cass a bit better. Hadn't she told him to leave her alone? He glanced back at her as he walked through the door. Minutes later, she found herself excusing herself from her companions and following him.


	21. Chapter 21

Arria barely took two steps outside before she was dragged around the nearest corner. She let Vulpes push her against the wall and pin her there with his hips. She let him take over her mouth. They were engaging in an ancient dance that they had tapped their way through years ago. His fingers bit into her hips as he pulled her as close as he possibly could. Before it could go any farther, however, Arria shoved his shoulders back. She could almost feel Boone's eyes on her, even though they were hidden underneath the roof. Something in the pit of her stomach told her to stop. There were things they needed to discuss.

"Wait," she panted. Vulpes wrenched himself away and leaned against the wall beside her. His chest matched hers in pace. "We need to talk."

"Indeed," he agreed, lacing his hand around hers. His thumb gently rubbed the back of his hand. There were so many questions. Her hormone ridden brain tried to think of just one.

"Why did I leave?" she finally decided on. It seemed a little obvious, but she wanted to hear it.

"I do not know exactly," he shook his head. "It was after your mother…you spoke to Caesar, came back, and left me alone in my tent after I fell asleep that night. Caesar would never tell what you spoke about, and whenever you are mentioned, he throws things. You always have pissed people off."

Arria scowled. He was the second man to say that to her. And it didn't even answer her question. He smirked down at her and snuck another kiss. She pushed him away. "What do you know?" she asked.

He opened his mouth to respond but was quickly shushed by Arria. Boone was starting to walk down the ramp. He would get down to the bar, see that she wasn't around, and come looking. If he found Vulpes…Arria shuddered. Sure, he wasn't dressed in crimson, but she had a feeling that Boone had some kind of sixth sense about that sort of thing.

"You have to go," she whispered urgently, pushing him away further.

"Why?"

"He can't find you."

"I will just kill him. Then, we can talk," he smirked and leaned in for a kiss.

Arria saw red. She pushed him completely away, practically shoving him against the wall. "Don't you dare touch him."

Vulpes' face twisted into anger. "Are you sleeping with him?"

Her cheeks began to burn. What was it with people? "It's not like that at all. He's been through enough. Killing isn't always the answer."

Vulpes looked at her incredulously and began laughing. "That is truly rich coming from you, a woman who made killing an art form. Fine, I will leave you alone, but you have to remember, you've been gone for three years. I want answers." And with that, he was gone. Arria's heart contracted painfully, but something told her that she had done the right thing, especially when Boone looked around the corner, his eyes searching.

"Hey." She tried to smile. It didn't seem genuine even to her.

He grunted his acknowledgment and folded his arms across this chest. "We have a new person?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "At least now when we split up we'll have even teams." Boone grunted again. "So, I think we should stay here for the night, let Cass sober up a bit. We'll head out in the morning."

"Alright," he agreed, glancing at her. "You okay?"

"Peachy," she sighed as she ran her hands over her face. "You know how closed-in spaces get me. I just needed some air." Something inside her cringed as she told the lie. He nodded along absentmindedly.

"I'll be on the roof if you need me," he grunted as he walked away. She waited until his footsteps died away before she leaned against the wall. Her body sagged with emotional exhaustion. Slowly, she let herself slide down until her butt met the hard ground. Her knees came up to her chest of their own volition. Before she knew it, she was resting her head on her arm, practically in the fetal position. Arria jumped as someone sat down next to her. A second later, she felt Veronica swing an arm over her. Unconsciously, the courier scooted closer and let herself be comforted by the closeness of another human being. They sat there until the sun went down, not saying a word.

As the stars began to shine, Veronica bumped her with her leg. "Are you ok?"

Arria barked a laugh. "Ye…n…I don't really know."

"Is it because of that guy?"

Arria's head shot up. She looked the scribe in the eye. This was dangerous territory she was treading. "What guy?"

"The guy you followed out here," Veronica snorted. Her tone made it sound like 'don't play stupid'. When Arria didn't say anything, she continued. "Well, you could have done worse. If I were into that kind of thing, I'd say you picked a really good-looking one."

She wanted to correct her. He had picked her long ago. But she didn't. "How many people noticed?" she asked.

"No one noticed you leave. They were all too devastated that he was gone."

"Seems about right," Arria snorted. Woman had always flocked to Vulpes. He was something exotic, not seen very often in the sea of tanned bodies of the Mojave. When he really wanted something, he could charm the pants right off of someone. That's what made him such a good Frumentarii.

"Did you do something rash?" Veronica asked, her voice quiet. She must have known that Boone was on the roof.

"For once, no. I kept my head," Arria sighed. Her body missed him. It yearned for him to be there beside her instead of Veronica. "I know him, though." She froze. Was she really going to divulge that? Was she really ready to?

"I thought so. He kept looking at you as if there was something there. How do you know him?"

"I don't know," Arria lied. No, she wasn't ready to talk about it. She looked away before resting her head on her arms again. Veronica patted her back.

"Okay," she sighed. Oh, she knew she was just lied to. Arria felt a twinge of guilt. "I'm going to get something to eat and try to wrestle the shot glass out of Cass' hand. Find me if you need me." With that, she was gone, and Arria was alone once again with her head buzzing like a cazador.

She sighed, disgusted with herself. Who was this sniveling little bitch that had crawled into her skin? _We do not cry in the Legion_, a voice barked at her, causing her back to snap straight. She looked around. Had that voice only been in her head? It had sounded so close and way too real for her comfort. She shook her head and got up, dusting herself off as she began to walk toward the ramp.

"Hey," she murmured as Boone came into view. He jumped a little.

"What did I say about sneaking up on me? Goddammit," he growled. Arria shrugged his reaction off. Typical Boone. Beside him, a cigarette smoldered in the ash tray sitting on the ledge. She crinkled her nose and very innocently bumped it off the side with her hip.

"How unfortunate," she sighed, watching it fall. Boone scowled at her.

"I should make you go pick it up," he grumbled.

"You could try," she challenged as she folded her arms.

"Did you come up here to annoy me?" he groused, turning to face her angrily.

"Possibly."

"Mission accomplished."

"You're too easy."

With one last scowl, he turned back to the Mojave and ignored her. Arria sighed. This wasn't going how she had wanted it to. She really hadn't come up to piss him off. All she wanted was to sit with someone who was uncomplicated, and she screwed it up. Of course. Why did she always have to push things? She sighed and decided to make up for it.

He tried to ignore her as she walked in front of him. He shuffled uncomfortably as she pulled the pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. By the time she grabbed his lighter, he was watching her out of the corner of his eye. When she lit it and took a drag, he turned his head and stared at her. She smirked, blew out the smoke, and placed the burning cigarette on his lips.

"There you go. All better," she murmured before she sat down in the corner closest to him. Pulling her knees to her chest again, she listened to his breathing until sleep swept her away.

Arria stood before a fire, dirt and sweat streaking her face. The wind whipped her hair violently, but she disregarded it. Behind her, a Brahmin mooed nervously. It was tethered to ground and unable to move. She was just waiting for the moon to reach its highest point. As it slowly moved across the night sky, Arria began to undress. Her shirt fluttered in the wind as it fell to the ground. Her pants landed next to it followed by her undergarments. Underneath the watchful eye of the disk in the sky, Arria stood naked and free, absorbing the pale moonlight.

She raised her hands and cupped stars in her palms. The breeze gently pulled her toward the Brahmin behind her. She followed its lead, unsheathing a knife as she went. The steel glinted in the fire light and reflected in the eyes of the helpless creature. To its credit, it didn't squirm or try to run as she moved closer. It stood there staring at her, as if it knew its purpose in this ritual. Arria raised the hilt of the knife to the heavens and called upon goddess of the moon, Diana, to join her in her time of need. She pleaded for guidance with her journey and strength to leave all she had ever known. She called for insight to make the right choices and interception when she didn't. But most of all, she asked for the will to make things right, to step into the shoes of an independent woman.

When she was done entreating the goddess, Arria circled around the Brahmin, kissed each head gently, and then drug the knife over both its throats. Its blood collected in a golden bowl until it over flowed. Arria lifted it high above her head, the liquid sloshing back and forth. The wind danced with her hair one last time before she turned the bowl over and baptized herself in blood. The liquid dripped off her face and down the length of her body, steaming as it flowed. After she was sufficiently covered in the warm life force of another, she kneeled before the fire and prayed.

As she finished with a "Gratias tibi, magnae deae", the goddess answered with the life bringing gift of rain. Soft at first then slowly becoming enough to rinse her clean. She looked up, into the cascade, and beamed. The goddess was blessing her endeavors.

"Wake up," a voice echoed. Arria covered herself, suddenly very aware that she was naked. This was a personal moment. Who dared interfere with such a sacred ritual?

"Wake up," it goaded again. It was a coarse, angry voice that seemed to echo in her world. She blinked to find herself fully clothed and curled into a ball on a roof top. A man with a red beret was staring angrily down at her, a cigarette hanging from his lips. It took her a minute to remember where she was and that the angry man was Boone. Arria sighed. That had been surreal.

She uncurled herself painfully and stretched. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon, swathing Boone in a warm glow that almost didn't suit his angry expression. It still looked good on him, though. She smiled at him and grabbed the cigarette from between his lips. As he stared at her, she took a drag.

"When did you start smoking?" Boone groused, watching her blow out grayish smoke. She watched it swirl in the wind before she shrugged.

"Last night, apparently. You just make it look so enticing," she quipped, taking another drag. He pulled it from her lips before she could get a lungful.

"Get your own," he growled as he put it back between his. She chuckled and tweaked his nose.

"Come eat breakfast when Ghost gets back. I'll let you sleep a few hours before we head out," she said as she walked down the ramp toward her own breakfast, a little spring in her step.

* * *

The group took three days to get back to Freeside, including a trip to the Crimson Caravan to drop off the papers. Cass, of course, stayed outside with Veronica while Boone and Arria dealt with Alice. The courier again had to make sure that Ringo would stay there; this time, however, it was a bit easier with Boone glaring at him. She let him think whatever he wanted about them as long as it kept him where he was.

After they completed the job, Arria counted the caps with a sense of triumph. They had enough! She did a little happy dance in celebration. All the working, all the planning had finally paid off. All they had to do was visit Mick and Ralph. Arria took Boone with her while the girls went ahead to the Wrangler. They walked in silence down the road, him a bit further back like always. It had almost become a comfort to the courier to have someone watch her back, but it was still a little awkward. She was used to Veronica wrapping an arm through hers. She had even become used to Cass' loud and sometimes inappropriate talking in the short time that they had traveled together.

"Here you are; two passports," Ralph nodded as he handed her the two documents.

"Here are the caps," Arria said proudly.

Ralph looked longingly at them before shaking his head and pushing her bag of caps away. "King said these were free. I'm not allowed to take any kind of payment for 'em. You have a good friend there, Legs," he sighed. Arria pulled her hand back and scowled in confusion. What the hell? She had asked for cheap, not free. She smiled, took the passports, and left, heading for the King's House of Impersonations.

Smirking Kings blurred past her as she made her way to the theater where The King sat. Rex barked a warm hello when he saw her which caused The King to turn around. He smiled his crooked smile, but it didn't seem to have the same zing for her as it used to. He was still very attractive to her, but now, the whole thing just felt old and annoying. All she wanted to do was forget about it; it was far too publicized anyways.

"Well, hello there, Legs. It's been too long since your face has graced my stage. What can I do for you now?" he asked, his voice husky.

Arria smiled at him. "I just wanted to…thank you…for the free passports. But, I do want to remind you that I asked for help, not a hand out."

"It wasn't a handout. We're friends, right?" He waited for her to nod. "I take care of my friends, no matter how I came about them." He winked at her, and she felt Boone tense next to her.

"I appreciate that. And if there is anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to ask. I have to pay you back for the free passports."

He leaned back and quirked an eyebrow in her direction. His eyes slid up and down her body in a very suggestive manner. Arria heard Boone's knuckles crack.

"So, how's Rex doing?" the courier asked quickly. Boone relaxed slightly, and The King sat normally in his chair.

"Rexie? Aw, poor boy, he ain' doin' too well," he sighed, patting the dog on the head. After talking to The King for just a few minutes, Arria found out exactly how she could repay the King.


	22. Chapter 22

Happy Thanksgiving guys! Sorry this one took a bit longer. It was really hard to find time to write with the end of the semester wrapping up. I'll have more time to write soon enough. Also, I don't know when, but I'll have to bump this up to M soon. I'll let you know when I do. And thanks for reading guys. I really do appreciate it. And I hope you guys enjoy this chapter.

* * *

The cyber dog padded happily beside Boone. For some reason, he just adored the sniper and trailed him everywhere. Arria smiled as she watched Boone scratch behind Rex's ear unconsciously. The gesture was awkward at best, but it was progress. She turned back around as he faced forward. It wouldn't do any good to let him see her watching.

Instead, she let her mind wander to what was behind the gate that led to New Vegas. There would be big, bright lights, drunken people stumbling around, prostitutes selling their flesh, and…Benny. The man who shot her. Just the thought of him in his stupid checkered suit caused her heart to race, her mouth to parch, and her palms to sweat all at the same time. All this time had passed, and she had not thought about a single attack plan. Instead, she had run around the Mojave taking care of every hiccup and sneeze that had arisen. Gritting her teeth, she pushed the bitter thoughts away. Thinking like that wouldn't help the situation.

Arria motioned for Veronica to join her at the front of the group as they reached the blockade of Securitrons. As the group walked forward, a man pushed through their center, a mad dash toward the promise of a new start. Instead, he fell to the ground, his back resembling cheese. They all stopped short. Everyone looked horrified, except for Boone. He just scowled harder.

"Present your passports or submit to a credit check," a Securitron said as it rolled up to their little convoy. Arria forced her hands to be steady as she held out her passport. Beside her, Veronica and the rest did the same. It quickly scanned the papers.

"Move along," it stated. As soon as they were out of sight, Arria let out a shaky breath. The King had definitely come through.

* * *

The lights of New Vegas were bright even during the day. They made the sun look pale in comparison. People loitered, stumbling drunk even during the day. Boone watched them from the shade of the Lucky 38, his eyes thin slits of disgust. Most of these people were NCR soldiers. Sure it was good to forget what you had done in the name of duty, but have some goddamned sense. This was free space. Anyone could be watching.

Maybe he was just jealous. A drink or two sounded pretty damned good, especially when the memories started up. She was still here, dancing her way through the crowds and smiling that smile that haunted him. He saw her in everything, and it killed him. He could still remember how her eyes would widen every time she looked up at the tall tower of the Lucky 38…how she would smile and laugh at the drunks faltering around all over the place…how she would make him dance with her in the Tops. Boone closed his eyes.

Goddammit. This was why he hadn't come back here. This was her home, not Novac. This was where she had flourished, his beautiful desert flower withered when away from the bright lights. And it was entirely his fault. He opened his eyes. Coming here was a bad idea. He was about to bolt when Arria finally reappeared. Her eyes didn't sparkle with the Vegas lights. Instead, they were storm clouds, ignoring everything around her. He knew this look.

"Well, we have a place to stay," she said, her eyes down cast and her voice quiet.

"Why do I feel like there's a 'but' coming?" Cass snorted, crossing her arms across her chest. Everyone looked at the courier, even the dog.

"I have to get the Chip back," she mumbled, her eyebrows nearly knitting together.

"Well, wasn't that the whole goddamned point of this little trip?" the redhead snapped. Arria glowered back at her.

"Of course it fucking was," she growled. Some emotion flitted across her eyes before Boone could make out what it was. "I just need a plan."

Arria's eyes darted from stranger to stranger, and she ran a hand through her hair. Cass looked like she about to berate the courier again. Boone shook his head at her. It wasn't the time. Just let her breath a bit he mentally told the redhead. Being inside never sat well with her, and she had been in there for quite a while.

Finally, her eyes fell on him. They beseeched him without her consent, a sort of fragility shining through. He blinked in surprise. There were a lot of adjectives that described the woman before him. Fragile wasn't one of them. Was she scared? No. With the way she just charged into dangerous situations, he doubted she even knew how to fear things. He scowled with confusion. Why did that look strike a chord with him?

"You could just walk in there and demand it back. You know, throw a few punches when you don't get it. Oh, we could do good cop, bad cop if you wanted," Veronica suggested. Arria's eyes jumped to the scribe, amusement taking the place of that maddening look. Boone looked away, breathing deeply to keep his head. The courier quipped back, something witty that he didn't pay attention to. People were beginning to gawk at the courier, shocked and surprised that anyone had been allowed to walk in there. He watched them.

"Is there any way you could take a little time to think? I mean, he's been here for a couple of weeks. It's not like he's going anywhere, right?" the scribe's voice broke through his revere. He blinked again, wanting to be anywhere other than where he was.

Arria was nodding. "Sure. We could rest here and take Rex to the Follower's tomorrow. And from there…" her voice trailed off. She just looked lost. Where had her drive for revenge gone? Where had that warrior gone?

* * *

House freaked her out. As soon as she had walked in, the screen popped on, and any doubt about who she was disappeared. He had greeted her as "Ms. Graham" and waited politely while her mind reeled. Her first memories came back, more vivid and more painful. She was the daughter of the Malpais Legate, a vicious killer with no conscious. She had been born to kill, inheriting her father's lack of remorse. That was her purpose. It was a probability she had considered, but the sheer reality was…scary. Then, in the midst of her intense vulnerability, House had promised her caps and information if she got his precious Platinum Chip back. But did she really want to know more? It wasn't a question she could answer.

As soon as she could, she had left, seeking the solace of her friends. Instead, she got Cass' smart mouth and Boone's scowl. Was that why she didn't trust people? Or was it because she was programmed that way? Everyone on the Strip watched her every move, calling out to her and commenting on how lucky she was. Her head was spinning with the possibilities. All she wanted to do was sleep. She could have kissed Veronica for suggesting a rest.

"I call master bedroom!" Veronica chirped as they exited the elevator.

"I'll kill you for it," she half growled, walking past her. As soon as her head hit the pillow, consciousness left her fully clothed with the door wide open. It winded down dark alleys of memories and marched through valleys of overt death. One second she was dancing in the blood raining from the profligate hanging from the cross. Then, she was decimating tribes, killing anything and everything that moved with a steady hand.

That night, her dreams ran red with blood. It was as if her mind had decided to torture her for everything she had done. And all of it was in the name of a man who claimed to be the son of Mars. It was with horror that she realized that she hadn't left because she felt remorse about what she had done. No, she left because she couldn't advance because of her sex. She would have been married off and forgotten about.

Arria awoke a few hours later, choked by her covers and sweating in her armor. Carefully, she extracted herself and walked out of her room. Everyone had gone to their rooms, echoing snores attesting to that fact. The bathroom called to her, the tubs promising her sanctuary. As she eased her aching body, she realized they had surpassed their promises. Muscles unknotted and a sigh slipped out before she could even lean back. Hands dripping, she brought them to her temples in an attempt to sooth the angry aching of her head.

She fought the budding memory ferociously. It wasn't worth it anymore. She knew she was a bad person. It wasn't something that she needed to be constantly reminded of. Instead, she threw her head under water, submerging herself completely. Bubbles massaged her head as they made their way to the surface. The world was silent for once, and she liked it. She wanted to stay down forever, reveling in the stillness of this realm. Everything was peaceful, and she so wanted peace.

Arria broke the surface moments later, gasping for breath. Water cascaded down her face and neck, the cool air sending shivers down her spine. Air conditioning was a bitch when dripping wet. The next time, she slowly lowered herself back down until only her nose was above water, waiting out the ripples before she began to breath.

"You are not a bad person, Arria," her mother said gently. They were in a clearing by a river, sitting facing each other. Her mother's legs were tucked gracefully under her while Arria sat with her knees pulled to her chest. The sand beside her rippled with the motion of her shaking, mirroring her frazzled nerves.

"Then, what am I?" she gasped, her lips pale white and her eyes severely ringed from lack of sleep. Every time her eyes closed, all she saw were the tiny faces screaming for her to let them go. But, orders were orders, and she was a soldier. That excuse did not stop them from haunting her, though.

"An opportunity," her mother whispered, crawling closer. Suddenly, her movements were urgent, and her eyes were wide. "You do not have to stay here, Arria. This place, your job, is killing you. Get out while you still can. Make your own path."

"Go where? They will find me wherever I run. I am property, a slave."

Her mother grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. Not overtly rough, just enough to douse her self-pity. "You are a resourceful young woman. I would never have birthed a slave. What did I make you read all those books for?"

"But what about you? They will kill you…"

"Then I die. Simple as that. But, I would have died knowing that my daughter has found herself. Think about it, Arria. And remember: your conscience proves your humanity. You are more than what they made you."

The water around her face rippled softly as she pulled herself up. Was that her brain's way of soothing her aching spirit? She snorted and pulled herself out of the water. It would take more than that. Contemplating what had been shown to her, she pulled on her long undershirt and underwear and shook her hair out. Maybe a drink would help.

Boone had beaten her to it, a full bottle of vodka sitting in front of him. When he saw her lack of pants, he scowled and looked away. Not caring in the slightest, she walked past him and grabbed a shot glass from the cabinet. Rex's tail thumped against the floor as she walked past him. Only when she sat down did the sniper look at her again.

"You're up late," she commented as she grabbed the bottle and poured herself a shot. He watched the liquid swish in the bottle as she put it down.

"Could say the same about you," he growled, copying her. They stared at their respective drinks, each preparing for the burn.

"And, you'd be right. I couldn't sleep," she explained before she toasted her companion and tossed back the clear liquid. Ugh. That was the worst burn yet and the absolute worst tasting. She poured another. "So, do you come here often?"

The look on his face made her giggle. For once, he wasn't scowling. He took his shot before answering her. "More often than I would like," he mumbled. The vile liquid poured itself into his glass before she knew what had happened. Suddenly, the joking air was nonexistent.

"Bad memories?" she asked gently. He knocked back another shot and nodded, his face twisted into a grimace of disgust. She followed suit.

"I met Carla here," he grumbled, pouring both of them another. Arria didn't know what to say. Comforting was never her strong suit. Instead, she took another shot.

"Not exactly bad."

"Yeah," he agreed. "More like haunting."

"What was she like?"

They each took another shot before he answered. Each needed liquid courage. "She was…beautiful. And funny. She always had something to say, no matter what the situation was. And she was caring. It was almost like her mission in life was to shine. And I took her away from her stage."

His voice dripped with bitterness. Maybe if they got drunk enough, he'd give her a little insight. That wasn't the right way to think. She chided herself and took another shot. It went down easier than expected, smooth and warm. The kitchen took on a fuzzy aura, the edges softening pleasantly. She glanced up at him, his scowling face angrier than she had ever seen him.

"It takes two to tango," she hiccupped. He brought his angry eyes to her face. Before he could ask what she meant, she elaborated. "She came away with you because she loved you. It was her choice, too."

"Then, I should have had the foresight-"

"Oh, hush," she sighed. "No one can tell the future. You couldn't have known."

"I was First Recon, goddammit!" His outburst made her jump. "I should have been there. I should have…done something. I should have been there."

She heard his knuckles crack with anger. They each took another shot. Then another. "It's not too late," she slurred.

"What do you mean?" His voice told her she was walking on thin ground.

"Well, she could still be out there. We could go look for her. After everything we've been through, I'd be willing to help-"

"Carla's dead."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"How could you?"

"I just do."

"How?"

"Goddammit! I killed her."

The silence between them was deafening. His breathing was angered and heavy, his knuckles white. She watched him, waiting for him to do something. She had never seen his eyes so angry, so pain filled. Something inside her told her to comfort him, touch him to make sure he was ok. But she knew better than that. Instead, she busied her hands with yet another shot.

"What?"

"I killed Carla. The Legion…they took her. I tracked them down. Southeast, near the river. I was too late. They were selling her when I finally got there. I saw it through my scope. Whole place swarming with Legion. Hundreds of them. Bidding for things that no man has a right to. I just had my rifle with me. Just me against all of them, so…I took the shot.

Arria nodded. She knew exactly how they treated their slaves, especially if they were as beautiful as he said Carla was. She shivered. It had been after her time in the Legion, but she couldn't help but fell slightly at fault. She hadn't done anything to cripple them before she left. No, she wasn't going to make this about her. It wasn't. There was nothing she could have done.

"Mercy killing. Probably best. The Legion is brutal," was all she could get past the lump in her throat.

"All of this was only ever going to play out one way. It still is. I don't have any say. All I can do is wait for it to be done with me," the broken man in front of her said, his words surprisingly sober for someone who has had as many shots as she had.

"You make it sound like your wife's death was inevitable."

"It was gonna be something. If I'd never have met Carla, it would have been something else. I should've never gotten close to her." It was as if he were punishing himself, constantly replaying it over and over in his mind. Her heart contracted for him. "I've got bad things coming to me. You'd better keep your distance, too."

"Why do you think you have bad things coming to you?"

"Because fair is fair," he growled. Okay, now he was talking in riddles. Time to stop drinking.

"You are not going to tell me, are you?"

"No, sorry." He didn't sound very sorry, but Arria didn't think she could handle anymore anyways. She watched his hand grip his shot glass, thoughts formulating and dissolving in her head. He had finally opened up to her, at least part way. And she could never do that with him. Ever. He was too good of a companion for her to sabotage their sort of friendship like that.

She stood up and took her glass to the sink, her legs surprisingly sturdy underneath her. He was so lost in his self-torment that he didn't even notice she was walking around him. Before he could react, she gently squeezed his shoulder. "Try to get some sleep. We have a long day tomorrow," was the last thing she said to him before she walked herself back to her bedroom. She tossed and turned all night, the room far too quiet.

Arria woke the next morning with less of a hangover then what she would have expected. However, thoughts had taken its place, buzzing and whirling around. Too many to concentrate on just one. Boone shot his wife. He had been close to where she had lived. How was he still walking around? Could she really help him with his blood lust?

Her head spun. Maybe she was a bit more hung over than she thought. Low grade nausea made her stomach perform back flips. Wasn't this the time when she swore never to drink again? She wasn't going to risk opening her mouth. Instead, she put her hand over her eyes and ripped the covers away that were choking her. The room was too hot. Everything was too close. And she was going to throw up.

She barely made it to the bathroom in time. Clear liquid gushed from her mouth, the only thing in her stomach to come back up. By the time she finished, her hands were shaking, and her mouth tasted horrid. A glass of cold water was pushed against her shoulder. She looked up to find Boone staring down at her, glass in hand. Rex licked her face. With a weak smile, she accepted the sniper's offering and sipped.

The smells of breakfast wafted down the hall and toward her curled up form in the bathroom. As they wrapped around her nose, she gagged. Breakfast was definitely not an option this morning. She tried to wave away the smells with her free hand unsuccessfully. Soon enough, she found her head back in the toilet, her stomach trying to expel anything it could. Her hair kept getting in the way until Boone pulled it back for her. When she finished, she smiled weakly at him again. Rex curled up next to her, his head on her lap.

"Thanks," she sighed, running her hands over her face.

"You probably shouldn't drink anymore."

She chuckled. "That's my line."

"How are you?"

"Besides icky?" He nodded. "I'm okay. Thanks for talking to me last night."

He grunted and folded his arms, closing himself off again. She looked away, sipping her water as if it were the best drink in the world and scratching behind the cyber dog's ear. The taste in her mouth slowly went away.

"Cass is cooking breakfast. You should eat something," he suggested. She looked back up at him. He was still scowling, but it was more concerned than his normal frown. She chuckled internally. They had traveled together so much that she was beginning to be able to differentiate the meaning of his scowls.

"You should, too."

"Not hungry."

"Me either."

"Do you always have to be difficult?"

"Yup."

With a sigh, Boone walked away. With one last lick of her face, Rex followed, his tail wagging happily. She finished the glass and stumbled back to her room to get dressed. When she finally managed to pull everything on, she walked back down the hall to the kitchen where everyone was waiting for her. They all had plates of food in front of them and had even set one out for her. She eyed hers skeptically. They expected her to eat? Veronica patted the seat next to her invitingly, all the plates still steaming.

She sat in the offered seats and stared down at her food. Gecko steaks with scrambled Deathclaw eggs. With slightly shaky hands, she grabbed her fork and began to eat slowly. Everyone else followed suit. Cass and Veronica talked while Arria tried to force the food down. When all the plates were clear, everyone left to get ready. Rex came out from under the table as Arria left, licking bits of egg from the side of his mouth.


	23. Chapter 23

As the group left the Mormon Fort, Arria stopped them. There was something she had been thinking about, something that not everyone would like. They all stared at her expectantly.

"So, I think we need to split up," she started. Veronica began to shake her head, a question on her lips. Arria held up a hand. "I need info on Benny. He knows me so I can't just waltz in there and watch him for a few days. I just need to know his habits, his weaknesses. Can you guys do this for me?" She was looking at Cass and Veronica on this one. She knew Boone wouldn't let her go anywhere alone, especially on such a long trip.

Veronica's face turn slightly red, but Cass put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll do it. You're buying us breakfast when you get back, though."

Arria smiled with gratitude and agreed. "I'll buy you the biggest breakfast you can imagine. I'll even walk you guys back to the Strip. There's one last thing I have to do before we go."

* * *

Arria walked away from the Strip twenty minutes later with Caleb McCaffery's hat twirling on her finger, a spatter of blood drying on the rim. It had been a quick death and went unnoticed by the Securitrons. It would have been unnecessary if only he had listened to reason, but alas, angry men make poor listeners. Boone and Rex followed behind her, their destination the Atomic Wrangler.

"Good to see you friend!" Francine called to her as soon as the trio entered. Arria nodded and waved, making her way over to the bar. With a flourish, she presented Caleb's hat to the bartender.

"I took care of McCaffery."

"This is great news!" Francine punched the air with her fist in victory. "No one screws with the Garret twins and gets away with it. I need to find a place on the wall for this!" Before they left, the barkeeper slipped her 150 caps and a permanent room key. In response, the courier smiled and waved goodbye.

They made their way through Freeside, dodging iffy looking people and quickly making their way past the King's House of Impersonations. No matter how quickly they moved, however, it didn't stop the involuntary reaction Boone had to the place and the people inside. Arria watched as his shoulders tensed and his hands balled into fists. At least the guards had enough sense to leave him alone as they made their way past. He glared at her when he realized she was staring. With a smirk, she looked forward, her eyes categorizing and watching everyone.

"Are you ever going to get over the whole King fiasco?" she asked as they made their way past the Mormon Fort. Boone walked a little closer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he barked. Fine, if he wanted to pretend certain events didn't happen, then she could play along. That didn't stop her from wondering vaguely if the King still had bite marks.

"Sure, sure," she simpered as she fought a blush. At least she wasn't sore anymore.

* * *

The Mojave was just as she left it: hot and scattered with small amounts of life. As soon as they passed the gates and all the people loitering around it, Arria took the first deep, purifying breath she had in a while. There weren't too many people around her; the air wasn't heavy with the smell of anything other than nature, and it was quiet. She almost felt like skipping.

"What are you doing?" she heard Boone ask as she did indeed start skipping.

"Showing immense joy. You should try it some time," she chirped, spinning around. After that last flashback, she had felt a certain lightness that she couldn't quite explain. It was as if a weight had been taken off her heart, no more vice grip, no more confusion. There were still questions, of course, but she was no longer afraid of the answers. Just the fact that her mother had believed in her, after everything she had done, made her practically float.

"If I ever feel it again, I'll let you know," he mumbled, his feet staying firmly on the ground.

"You'll feel it again."

Boone grunted and ignored her antics. Instead, he busied his hands and his mind with his rifle. With one last smile in his direction, she skipped ahead, Rex barking and loping happily behind her. After a few seconds, though, Rex fell behind. Boone caught up to find the cyber dog whining in pain and pawing at his head. Arria stopped short, her smile fading.

"We need to make this quick," he noted.

"Too bad we couldn't carry him." Arria looked at the sniper and smiled sadly. He was so attached to the poor dog. "If you cover me, I will."

All Boone could do was nod as she gently picked up the mechanical dog and cradled him like a baby. "Let's move," she grunted as Rex struggled to get comfortable.

Boone moved in front of her, motioning for her to stay close. She became his shadow across the Mojave, past hidden vaults and would-be raiders. He took down anything that moved with an expert eye, quick and clean. She knew he was good, but watching him in action filled her with a new respect. Not helping him, however, was driving her mad. Doing nothing was not what she was made for. But, just one look at the poor dog in her arms strengthened her resolve.

By the time they stopped for the night, they were a bit more than half way. Arria could see snow on the distant mountain tops, colored red from the setting sun. Gently, she placed Rex down by where she was going to start the fire. Boone made quick work of securing the area while Arria gathered the necessities for the fire. The sniper came back with a molerat and began to prepare their dinner. By the time it was dark, the smell of cooking meat filled their little encampment. Arria sat next to Rex, petting behind his ears while the food finished cooking.

"There's only one set of dishes," Boone grunted, handing her a bowl full of stew. She watched as a piece of meat floated in the dark broth. "I'll eat when you're done."

She looked up at him, accepting his offering with a smile. The idea that Boone would be using the same spoon as her made her feel a bit strange, but her stomach told her to let it go. The stew was hardy and seasoned quite well. Who knew Boone could cook?

"Thank you," she murmured as she handed the empty bowl back to him. He grunted and began to fill it for himself. She watched as he brought the spoon to his mouth, trying to forget the fact that she had just been using it. He didn't seem to care, shoveling spoonful after spoonful into his mouth without looking up. After he was done, he filled it again and let Rex lap up his share.

"I'll take first watch if you want," she offered. Before she even finished her sentence, Boone was shaking his head.

"No, I'll take first watch," he said firmly. When she looked incredulously at him, he explained. "You carried the dog. Get some sleep."

"Okay," she finally sighed. Even though she wasn't tired, there was no arguing with Boone when he got like this. Instead, she rolled out her bed roll.

She found herself some minutes later, still awake and staring up at the stars. The quiet was a little disconcerting after traveling with a small troupe for so long. She hadn't noticed it earlier, too focused on Rex to care. There was no Veronica to lighten the mood. There was no Cass to smirk at. There was no one but Boone.

"What if I can't sleep?" she asked, rolling on her belly to look at the sniper. Rex was curled up next to him, already asleep. Boone met her gaze with an annoyed scowl.

"Try," he grunted. She frowned at him and crawled out of her bedroll. "That's not trying."

She sat beside him in front of the fire. "Let's talk."

"About what?"

"Anything. Something. Come on; I know you can."

He half grunted and half groaned as she stared at him, waiting for something to come out of his mouth. "Just go to sleep."

"Not tired."

"How are you not tired? You carried over 50 pounds of metal and fur around the Mojave all day."

"Just not tired," she shrugged. "So, where are you from?"

Boone growled in the back of his throat, his shoulders tensing. She was annoying him, but she couldn't find the emotion to care. She wanted to know him. She wanted to know the man that would cover her while she carried a deteriorating cyber dog. She wanted to know the man that had held her hair back while she got sick. She wanted to know the man that didn't want her to go anywhere without him. What made him tick? Where had his morbid outlook on life come from?

Finally, he sighed and glanced at her, his hand stroking his chin. "My parents had a small farm back in California."

"Farm boy, huh? So, what made you join the NCR?"

"My parents died. Natural causes. Tried to continue with the farm, but I couldn't stay there. My brother took it over. Roamed for a little while. Finally, I signed up. Couldn't tell you why, even to this day. Maybe I needed direction," he mused.

"Would you do it again?"

His answer was an eternity and a half in coming. His eyebrows had furrowed so close together it looked like they connected. "I don't know."

She nodded, realizing that was probably the best she was going to get for that one. It was kind of a personal question anyways. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and she brushed a piece of hair away from her face. "So, what's your favorite color?"

He stared at her, confused by the jump in topic. "Red," he grunted.

"That's ironic," she snorted, earning her a scowl. "Well, it is."

"Yeah, I guess it is," he grumbled. She bumped him slightly. He stiffened but didn't scoot away. "Still not tired?"

She shook her head. If only she could shut herself off for a few hours. "Nope."

"I'm not going to give you any extra hours before your shift," he groused. She shrugged.

"That's fine."

The fire slowly burned down to embers, crackling and barely giving off heat. Before she knew it, she was shivering and looking around for firewood.

"Why'd you really decide to split up?" he asked, pulling a jacket from his pack and throwing another log on the fire.

"I really did need intel on Benny. I don't want to go in there guns blazing."

"For once."

"Was that a joke?" she scoffed, chuckling slightly. "Are you ok? I know it hurts the first time."

Boone smirked faintly before he offered his jacket to her. She watched him with her mouth hanging open, unable to give a coherent answer. Before she could respond, he slung it over her shoulders. Quickly, he turned away to poke the fire. She felt the rough outer material and marveled at the opposite plush interior. Vaguely, she wondered if this was some kind of metaphor. An unwanted smile crept upon her face as she put her arms through the sleeves. His scent enveloped her, making her head spin slightly. Slowly, she ran her fingers over the embossed NCR.

"What about you?" he asked, turning around. His face was a shadow, unreadable and dark.

"What about me?"

"Where are you from?"

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she felt suddenly very hot. This was not where the conversation was supposed to go.

"Somewhere," she shrugged vaguely. He scowled at her. That was obviously not a good enough answer for him.

"Like where?"

"You're really talkative tonight," she commented, eyeing her nails.

"Don't remember?" he asked, his eyes darting to where her bullet wound was.

She knew it would be lying. It was not the right thing to do. This could only bite her in the ass later. No matter what she told herself, however, she found herself nodding along with the lie. "Everything's kind of fuzzy."

"What do you remember?"

He was not going to let up, was he? Well, she should give him something. He had been so honest with her. "I…my parents are dead, too."

"Natural causes?"

"Huh. I wish." Her answering chuckle was humorless and dark. "No, it was Legion." Well, it was. He didn't have to know that they were in the thick of it.

"I see," he growled, his shoulders tightening unconsciously. "Is that why you asked me to travel with you?"

He probably wouldn't like the real answer. He probably wouldn't like a lot of her real answers. Truth was, she didn't exactly know why she had asked. He had seemed so lost, so much like her. Albeit, a bit angrier than her but still similar. Something about two peas and pods or some crap. Instead, she again found herself nodding. He sat down next to her.

"Don't worry. We'll kill as many of those bastards as we can. Almost can't wait to see you up against one of them. They're supposed to be really good hand-to-hand."

He didn't know how right he was. She could tell he was trying to comfort her in his own way, but it only made her stomach turn. The men of the Legion were just brain-washed tribals. They put their lives on the line for a man who claimed to be the son of some forgotten god. Most of them only joined to save their lives and those of their loved ones. She should know. She's the one that killed the ones that wouldn't.

She noticed he was watching for a reaction. Hopefully he would take her hesitation as fear instead of what it really was: actual hesitation. She could almost see the look of anger and betrayal on his face if he ever did find out. She probably wouldn't even put up a fight if he tried to kill her. If? Ha. When.

Instead, she smiled up at him. "I think it's time for me to go to bed," she sighed, struggling out of his jacket. Boone shook his head slightly and scowled at her.

"Keep it," he grunted. "I'm not cold."

She smiled sadly at him, her eyes glowing slightly in the sparking fire. "Thanks," she sighed. And with that, she crawled back into her bed roll, swaddled in his jacket. His steady breathing sent her off to sleep like always.

* * *

Boone lied. She was shaken awake a few hours after the time she was supposed to be. When she asked him about it, all he did was grunt and crawl into his bedroll. She watched him, her brain still slightly fuzzy from sleep. Within minutes, his breath evened out and deepened, signaling he had fallen asleep. Every so often, he'd jerk or twitch. She snorted. And he thought she thrashed around.

Eventually, she pulled herself from her warm cocoon to stoke the fire. She slowly let her eyes sweep the surrounding area for danger before sitting down. The night around them was quiet and a bit colder than normal. She pulled his jacket tighter around her and pulled out her rifle. It was overdue for a cleaning, and what better time was there than one not filled with trying to survive in the Mojave? Neither nook nor cranny was safe from her boredom induced cleaning fit. She found herself some time later, rag in hand and tongue between her teeth, scratching at a particularly resilient spot of dried blood.

She felt him before she heard Rex's low growl, her back straightening unconsciously. Quickly glancing at Boone, she confirmed he was still asleep before standing and turning around. Vulpes waited for her just outside the light of the low fire. His eyes seemed to glow as he watched her come closer, slowly running over the jacket that hung around her.

"I can remember a time when you would have burnt that thing before you would have let it touch you," he murmured, playing with the sleeve before grabbing her hand. His touch sent shivers down her spine, spiking her blood with hormones.

"Stop biting your lip," he demanded before smirking. "I want to do that." And with that, he pulled her close and nipped her bottom lip hard. The sudden pain frightfully enticing, causing her to jump slightly. He licked away a droplet of blood before the tiny nick healed.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to choke out. There was something about him that turned her to a brainless lump of mush. She only semi hated it.

"I saw that you went off by yourself with the NCR profligate," he said, his voice a silvery hiss that danced its way around and around her head.

"Running to my rescue?" she smirked, an unsuccessful attempt at being nonchalant. His hand curled its way into her hair, drawing her head back and revealing her neck.

"It is unwise to put yourself in these sorts of situations, Arria," he warned. His breath was hot on her exposed jugular.

"What sort of situations? You don't think I can handle myself?"

"Situations that would make me question your loyalty to me."

Arria's eyes sparked with barely concealed anger. "What loyalty? I hardly know you."

"That is the injury speaking. You know me very well, Arria. So much so that I had to make you mine. And mine you remain."

Her brain snarled with anger, but her body bent to his will. The way his hands moved across her body disabled any and all self-control attempts. It was as if he were controlling her with strings, pulling her any way he desired. And right then, it was closer and closer until every inch of her front was flush with his. His hand yanked at her hair again, forcing her head all the way back. He ravished her neck, nipping and sucking angrily.

"You. Are. Mine," he growled against her neck, his other hand slapping her behind as hard as he could. She gasped at the pain, tingles emanating from sensitive areas and rippling all over her body, only to be silenced by a fierce kiss. His tongue swirled around hers, practically sucking it out of her skull. He made a move to rip off the jacket, but that was when her brain fought back.

"No," she growled, pushing herself away. "I am my own."

They stood staring at each other, their chests identical as they rose and fell. She pulled the jacket closer around her, huddling behind its mysterious protective powers. Vuples' eyes narrowed angrily before he smirked it off.

"Fine," he sneered. "You just need time to see the truth. I will give you that time. But, I will not give up."

She didn't stick around to see him walk away. Looking at him would negate her strength, and now was not the time to be frail. He could smell weakness like smoke from a dying fire. If she were to turn around, he would swoop down upon her and stroke her dying embers until there was a full-fledged inferno blazing through the Mojave. They were just dangerous together. Instead, she kept her head and marched back to the camp where Boone greeted her with a snore. She smiled down at him, her unknowing source of self-control.

She woke him a few hours after sunrise, making sure to look unruffled. He blinked sleepily up at her, his trademark scowl not quite in place. For once, his face was still soft from sleep, still lost in dreamland with the love of his life. Her heart contracted painfully for him. Soon, he would wake up fully and be beaten down by cold, harsh reality. She turned around to let him be crushed in privacy.

Instead, she strayed away from camp, her bladder demanding attention. When she came back, Boone had started breakfast, his scowl firmly in place. It looked like the world came down harder than she had expected, and for once, she left him in peace, no questions or annoying antics. Quiet blanketed their little encampment, only broken by the crackle of the fire.

For a buzzing mind, quiet time was not helpful. How did Boone do it? Did he tune his thoughts out? Or did he wallow? He looked like a wallower. Veronica was definitely a talker, able to talk about pretty much anything. Cass…well, Cass was Cass simple as that. Arria still hadn't made up her mind about the redhead. She was entertaining, always saying rather inappropriate things at inappropriate moments. There was also a fierce streak running through that woman that Arria could appreciate. She had to wonder, however, if there was something softer underneath that rough exterior. Only time would tell. Arria sighed. She kind of missed them.

"Stop fidgeting. We can leave after we eat," Boone growled, handing her a plate of food. She jumped, unaware that she was doing anything in the first place.

"Do you miss the others?" she asked, taking a bite.

"What?" He looked at her as if she had three heads. Well, that answered that question.

"Nevermind," she said, quickly trying to finish what was on her plate. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could leave. Sitting still was messing with her mind.

She sat patiently through Boone's breakfast, trying not to focus on the fact that they were using the same utensils again. By the time the plate went to Rex, Arria had to do something. Her thoughts were turning back to Vulpes, and that was just dangerous territory. The way he had held her last night…she could still feel his fingers nested in her hair. He had been so forceful. She tried to remember if he was always like that.

"Ready?" she heard Boone ask. She looked up to find him pulling on his pack and grabbing his rifle. With a nod, she scooped up Rex and fell in behind Boone as they headed out.

The closer they got the more vegetation started to pop up. Arria marveled at all the green, especially the trees. The smell that met her nose was…new. It woke her up and put a spring in her step. It was so fresh, the air so clean and crisp. She marveled as the temperature cooled her warm skin, slowly dropping as they went higher up in the mountain. The only thing that was similar to the Mojave was the broken stretch of road they were following.

After sneaking past some bighorners and taking care of some giant mantises, Arria began to walk beside Boone instead of behind him. He didn't make any comment, just watched her from the corner of his eye. Up ahead, she could see sharpened logs and huge jagged branches lined up against one another, a fence for giants. Said giants loitered around the entrance, some watching their approach distrustfully. Behind their perimeter, a massive building stood completely intact, a testament of the time before the Great War. Boone stopped short, the sight of so many super mutants unsettling him.

"This Jacobstown?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

She shifted Rex's weight and nodded, eyeing the hulking figures. "Well, they haven't opened fire yet. That's a good sign, right?"

Boone grunted with a shrug of his shoulders. "Let's get this over with."

She nodded, and they began walking cautiously forward. Every step cracked the brittle ground under foot. Every step brought more eyes upon them until all eyes were watching them. Before they knew it, they were standing in front of the entrance, the super mutants and Nightkins eyeing them wearily. One finally stepped forward, his shoulders and body covered in heavy pieces of metal.

"Welcome to Jacobstown, humans. You're free to walk around, just don't stare at the Nightkin. They don't like people looking at them. And if you're NCR, keep it to yourself. They're not popular around here," the super mutant warned them, glancing at Boone. Something bristled inside her, a deep-seated need to protect her sniper, but she pushed it down. They hadn't done anything to him yet.

Instead, she'd try the friendly approach. "Thank you. I'm Arria. This is Boone and Rex. We're here to see Dr. Henry. Do you know where we could find him?"

"I'm Marcus, mayor of Jacobstown. Pleasure to meet you. You can find him in the main building, first right as you walk in," he explained. She thanked him and politely bowed out from the conversation. With Boone following her and Rex still secure in her arms, she made her way to the main building.


	24. Chapter 24

As the group left the Mormon Fort, Arria stopped them. There was something she had been thinking about, something that not everyone would like. They all stared at her expectantly.

"So, I think we need to split up," she started. Veronica began to shake her head, a question on her lips. Arria held up a hand. "I need info on Benny. He knows me so I can't just waltz in there and watch him for a few days. I just need to know his habits, his weaknesses. Can you guys do this for me?" She was looking at Cass and Veronica on this one. She knew Boone wouldn't let her go anywhere alone, especially on such a long trip.

Veronica's face turn slightly red, but Cass put a hand on her shoulder. "We'll do it. You're buying us breakfast when you get back, though."

Arria smiled with gratitude and agreed. "I'll buy you the biggest breakfast you can imagine. I'll even walk you guys back to the Strip. There's one last thing I have to do before we go."

* * *

Arria walked away from the Strip twenty minutes later with Caleb McCaffery's hat twirling on her finger, a spatter of blood drying on the rim. It had been a quick death and went unnoticed by the Securitrons. It would have been unnecessary if only he had listened to reason, but alas, angry men make poor listeners. Boone and Rex followed behind her, their destination the Atomic Wrangler.

"Good to see you friend!" Francine called to her as soon as the trio entered. Arria nodded and waved, making her way over to the bar. With a flourish, she presented Caleb's hat to the bartender.

"I took care of McCaffery."

"This is great news!" Francine punched the air with her fist in victory. "No one screws with the Garret twins and gets away with it. I need to find a place on the wall for this!" Before they left, the barkeeper slipped her 150 caps and a permanent room key. In response, the courier smiled and waved goodbye.

They made their way through Freeside, dodging iffy looking people and quickly making their way past the King's House of Impersonations. No matter how quickly they moved, however, it didn't stop the involuntary reaction Boone had to the place and the people inside. Arria watched as his shoulders tensed and his hands balled into fists. At least the guards had enough sense to leave him alone as they made their way past. He glared at her when he realized she was staring. With a smirk, she looked forward, her eyes categorizing and watching everyone.

"Are you ever going to get over the whole King fiasco?" she asked as they made their way past the Mormon Fort. Boone walked a little closer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he barked. Fine, if he wanted to pretend certain events didn't happen, then she could play along. That didn't stop her from wondering vaguely if the King still had bite marks.

"Sure, sure," she simpered as she fought a blush. At least she wasn't sore anymore.

* * *

The Mojave was just as she left it: hot and scattered with small amounts of life. As soon as they passed the gates and all the people loitering around it, Arria took the first deep, purifying breath she had in a while. There weren't too many people around her; the air wasn't heavy with the smell of anything other than nature, and it was quiet. She almost felt like skipping.

"What are you doing?" she heard Boone ask as she did indeed start skipping.

"Showing immense joy. You should try it some time," she chirped, spinning around. After that last flashback, she had felt a certain lightness that she couldn't quite explain. It was as if a weight had been taken off her heart, no more vice grip, no more confusion. There were still questions, of course, but she was no longer afraid of the answers. Just the fact that her mother had believed in her, after everything she had done, made her practically float.

"If I ever feel it again, I'll let you know," he mumbled, his feet staying firmly on the ground.

"You'll feel it again."

Boone grunted and ignored her antics. Instead, he busied his hands and his mind with his rifle. With one last smile in his direction, she skipped ahead, Rex barking and loping happily behind her. After a few seconds, though, Rex fell behind. Boone caught up to find the cyber dog whining in pain and pawing at his head. Arria stopped short, her smile fading.

"We need to make this quick," he noted.

"Too bad we couldn't carry him." Arria looked at the sniper and smiled sadly. He was so attached to the poor dog. "If you cover me, I will."

All Boone could do was nod as she gently picked up the mechanical dog and cradled him like a baby. "Let's move," she grunted as Rex struggled to get comfortable.

Boone moved in front of her, motioning for her to stay close. She became his shadow across the Mojave, past hidden vaults and would-be raiders. He took down anything that moved with an expert eye, quick and clean. She knew he was good, but watching him in action filled her with a new respect. Not helping him, however, was driving her mad. Doing nothing was not what she was made for. But, just one look at the poor dog in her arms strengthened her resolve.

By the time they stopped for the night, they were a bit more than half way. Arria could see snow on the distant mountain tops, colored red from the setting sun. Gently, she placed Rex down by where she was going to start the fire. Boone made quick work of securing the area while Arria gathered the necessities for the fire. The sniper came back with a molerat and began to prepare their dinner. By the time it was dark, the smell of cooking meat filled their little encampment. Arria sat next to Rex, petting behind his ears while the food finished cooking.

"There's only one set of dishes," Boone grunted, handing her a bowl full of stew. She watched as a piece of meat floated in the dark broth. "I'll eat when you're done."

She looked up at him, accepting his offering with a smile. The idea that Boone would be using the same spoon as her made her feel a bit strange, but her stomach told her to let it go. The stew was hardy and seasoned quite well. Who knew Boone could cook?

"Thank you," she murmured as she handed the empty bowl back to him. He grunted and began to fill it for himself. She watched as he brought the spoon to his mouth, trying to forget the fact that she had just been using it. He didn't seem to care, shoveling spoonful after spoonful into his mouth without looking up. After he was done, he filled it again and let Rex lap up his share.

"I'll take first watch if you want," she offered. Before she even finished her sentence, Boone was shaking his head.

"No, I'll take first watch," he said firmly. When she looked incredulously at him, he explained. "You carried the dog. Get some sleep."

"Okay," she finally sighed. Even though she wasn't tired, there was no arguing with Boone when he got like this. Instead, she rolled out her bed roll.

She found herself some minutes later, still awake and staring up at the stars. The quiet was a little disconcerting after traveling with a small troupe for so long. She hadn't noticed it earlier, too focused on Rex to care. There was no Veronica to lighten the mood. There was no Cass to smirk at. There was no one but Boone.

"What if I can't sleep?" she asked, rolling on her belly to look at the sniper. Rex was curled up next to him, already asleep. Boone met her gaze with an annoyed scowl.

"Try," he grunted. She frowned at him and crawled out of her bedroll. "That's not trying."

She sat beside him in front of the fire. "Let's talk."

"About what?"

"Anything. Something. Come on; I know you can."

He half grunted and half groaned as she stared at him, waiting for something to come out of his mouth. "Just go to sleep."

"Not tired."

"How are you not tired? You carried over 50 pounds of metal and fur around the Mojave all day."

"Just not tired," she shrugged. "So, where are you from?"

Boone growled in the back of his throat, his shoulders tensing. She was annoying him, but she couldn't find the emotion to care. She wanted to know him. She wanted to know the man that would cover her while she carried a deteriorating cyber dog. She wanted to know the man that had held her hair back while she got sick. She wanted to know the man that didn't want her to go anywhere without him. What made him tick? Where had his morbid outlook on life come from?

Finally, he sighed and glanced at her, his hand stroking his chin. "My parents had a small farm back in California."

"Farm boy, huh? So, what made you join the NCR?"

"My parents died. Natural causes. Tried to continue with the farm, but I couldn't stay there. My brother took it over. Roamed for a little while. Finally, I signed up. Couldn't tell you why, even to this day. Maybe I needed direction," he mused.

"Would you do it again?"

His answer was an eternity and a half in coming. His eyebrows had furrowed so close together it looked like they connected. "I don't know."

She nodded, realizing that was probably the best she was going to get for that one. It was kind of a personal question anyways. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and she brushed a piece of hair away from her face. "So, what's your favorite color?"

He stared at her, confused by the jump in topic. "Red," he grunted.

"That's ironic," she snorted, earning her a scowl. "Well, it is."

"Yeah, I guess it is," he grumbled. She bumped him slightly. He stiffened but didn't scoot away. "Still not tired?"

She shook her head. If only she could shut herself off for a few hours. "Nope."

"I'm not going to give you any extra hours before your shift," he groused. She shrugged.

"That's fine."

The fire slowly burned down to embers, crackling and barely giving off heat. Before she knew it, she was shivering and looking around for firewood.

"Why'd you really decide to split up?" he asked, pulling a jacket from his pack and throwing another log on the fire.

"I really did need intel on Benny. I don't want to go in there guns blazing."

"For once."

"Was that a joke?" she scoffed, chuckling slightly. "Are you ok? I know it hurts the first time."

Boone smirked faintly before he offered his jacket to her. She watched him with her mouth hanging open, unable to give a coherent answer. Before she could respond, he slung it over her shoulders. Quickly, he turned away to poke the fire. She felt the rough outer material and marveled at the opposite plush interior. Vaguely, she wondered if this was some kind of metaphor. An unwanted smile crept upon her face as she put her arms through the sleeves. His scent enveloped her, making her head spin slightly. Slowly, she ran her fingers over the embossed NCR.

"What about you?" he asked, turning around. His face was a shadow, unreadable and dark.

"What about me?"

"Where are you from?"

Her heart jumped into her throat, and she felt suddenly very hot. This was not where the conversation was supposed to go.

"Somewhere," she shrugged vaguely. He scowled at her. That was obviously not a good enough answer for him.

"Like where?"

"You're really talkative tonight," she commented, eyeing her nails.

"Don't remember?" he asked, his eyes darting to where her bullet wound was.

She knew it would be lying. It was not the right thing to do. This could only bite her in the ass later. No matter what she told herself, however, she found herself nodding along with the lie. "Everything's kind of fuzzy."

"What do you remember?"

He was not going to let up, was he? Well, she should give him something. He had been so honest with her. "I…my parents are dead, too."

"Natural causes?"

"Huh. I wish." Her answering chuckle was humorless and dark. "No, it was Legion." Well, it was. He didn't have to know that they were in the thick of it.

"I see," he growled, his shoulders tightening unconsciously. "Is that why you asked me to travel with you?"

He probably wouldn't like the real answer. He probably wouldn't like a lot of her real answers. Truth was, she didn't exactly know why she had asked. He had seemed so lost, so much like her. Albeit, a bit angrier than her but still similar. Something about two peas and pods or some crap. Instead, she again found herself nodding. He sat down next to her.

"Don't worry. We'll kill as many of those bastards as we can. Almost can't wait to see you up against one of them. They're supposed to be really good hand-to-hand."

He didn't know how right he was. She could tell he was trying to comfort her in his own way, but it only made her stomach turn. The men of the Legion were just brain-washed tribals. They put their lives on the line for a man who claimed to be the son of some forgotten god. Most of them only joined to save their lives and those of their loved ones. She should know. She's the one that killed the ones that wouldn't.

She noticed he was watching for a reaction. Hopefully he would take her hesitation as fear instead of what it really was: actual hesitation. She could almost see the look of anger and betrayal on his face if he ever did find out. She probably wouldn't even put up a fight if he tried to kill her. If? Ha. When.

Instead, she smiled up at him. "I think it's time for me to go to bed," she sighed, struggling out of his jacket. Boone shook his head slightly and scowled at her.

"Keep it," he grunted. "I'm not cold."

She smiled sadly at him, her eyes glowing slightly in the sparking fire. "Thanks," she sighed. And with that, she crawled back into her bed roll, swaddled in his jacket. His steady breathing sent her off to sleep like always.

* * *

Boone lied. She was shaken awake a few hours after the time she was supposed to be. When she asked him about it, all he did was grunt and crawl into his bedroll. She watched him, her brain still slightly fuzzy from sleep. Within minutes, his breath evened out and deepened, signaling he had fallen asleep. Every so often, he'd jerk or twitch. She snorted. And he thought she thrashed around.

Eventually, she pulled herself from her warm cocoon to stoke the fire. She slowly let her eyes sweep the surrounding area for danger before sitting down. The night around them was quiet and a bit colder than normal. She pulled his jacket tighter around her and pulled out her rifle. It was overdue for a cleaning, and what better time was there than one not filled with trying to survive in the Mojave? Neither nook nor cranny was safe from her boredom induced cleaning fit. She found herself some time later, rag in hand and tongue between her teeth, scratching at a particularly resilient spot of dried blood.

She felt him before she heard Rex's low growl, her back straightening unconsciously. Quickly glancing at Boone, she confirmed he was still asleep before standing and turning around. Vulpes waited for her just outside the light of the low fire. His eyes seemed to glow as he watched her come closer, slowly running over the jacket that hung around her.

"I can remember a time when you would have burnt that thing before you would have let it touch you," he murmured, playing with the sleeve before grabbing her hand. His touch sent shivers down her spine, spiking her blood with hormones.

"Stop biting your lip," he demanded before smirking. "I want to do that." And with that, he pulled her close and nipped her bottom lip hard. The sudden pain frightfully enticing, causing her to jump slightly. He licked away a droplet of blood before the tiny nick healed.

"What are you doing here?" she managed to choke out. There was something about him that turned her to a brainless lump of mush. She only semi hated it.

"I saw that you went off by yourself with the NCR profligate," he said, his voice a silvery hiss that danced its way around and around her head.

"Running to my rescue?" she smirked, an unsuccessful attempt at being nonchalant. His hand curled its way into her hair, drawing her head back and revealing her neck.

"It is unwise to put yourself in these sorts of situations, Arria," he warned. His breath was hot on her exposed jugular.

"What sort of situations? You don't think I can handle myself?"

"Situations that would make me question your loyalty to me."

Arria's eyes sparked with barely concealed anger. "What loyalty? I hardly know you."

"That is the injury speaking. You know me very well, Arria. So much so that I had to make you mine. And mine you remain."

Her brain snarled with anger, but her body bent to his will. The way his hands moved across her body disabled any and all self-control attempts. It was as if he were controlling her with strings, pulling her any way he desired. And right then, it was closer and closer until every inch of her front was flush with his. His hand yanked at her hair again, forcing her head all the way back. He ravished her neck, nipping and sucking angrily.

"You. Are. Mine," he growled against her neck, his other hand slapping her behind as hard as he could. She gasped at the pain, tingles emanating from sensitive areas and rippling all over her body, only to be silenced by a fierce kiss. His tongue swirled around hers, practically sucking it out of her skull. He made a move to rip off the jacket, but that was when her brain fought back.

"No," she growled, pushing herself away. "I am my own."

They stood staring at each other, their chests identical as they rose and fell. She pulled the jacket closer around her, huddling behind its mysterious protective powers. Vuples' eyes narrowed angrily before he smirked it off.

"Fine," he sneered. "You just need time to see the truth. I will give you that time. But, I will not give up."

She didn't stick around to see him walk away. Looking at him would negate her strength, and now was not the time to be frail. He could smell weakness like smoke from a dying fire. If she were to turn around, he would swoop down upon her and stroke her dying embers until there was a full-fledged inferno blazing through the Mojave. They were just dangerous together. Instead, she kept her head and marched back to the camp where Boone greeted her with a snore. She smiled down at him, her unknowing source of self-control.

She woke him a few hours after sunrise, making sure to look unruffled. He blinked sleepily up at her, his trademark scowl not quite in place. For once, his face was still soft from sleep, still lost in dreamland with the love of his life. Her heart contracted painfully for him. Soon, he would wake up fully and be beaten down by cold, harsh reality. She turned around to let him be crushed in privacy.

Instead, she strayed away from camp, her bladder demanding attention. When she came back, Boone had started breakfast, his scowl firmly in place. It looked like the world came down harder than she had expected, and for once, she left him in peace, no questions or annoying antics. Quiet blanketed their little encampment, only broken by the crackle of the fire.

For a buzzing mind, quiet time was not helpful. How did Boone do it? Did he tune his thoughts out? Or did he wallow? He looked like a wallower. Veronica was definitely a talker, able to talk about pretty much anything. Cass…well, Cass was Cass simple as that. Arria still hadn't made up her mind about the redhead. She was entertaining, always saying rather inappropriate things at inappropriate moments. There was also a fierce streak running through that woman that Arria could appreciate. She had to wonder, however, if there was something softer underneath that rough exterior. Only time would tell. Arria sighed. She kind of missed them.

"Stop fidgeting. We can leave after we eat," Boone growled, handing her a plate of food. She jumped, unaware that she was doing anything in the first place.

"Do you miss the others?" she asked, taking a bite.

"What?" He looked at her as if she had three heads. Well, that answered that question.

"Nevermind," she said, quickly trying to finish what was on her plate. The sooner they were done, the sooner they could leave. Sitting still was messing with her mind.

She sat patiently through Boone's breakfast, trying not to focus on the fact that they were using the same utensils again. By the time the plate went to Rex, Arria had to do something. Her thoughts were turning back to Vulpes, and that was just dangerous territory. The way he had held her last night…she could still feel his fingers nested in her hair. He had been so forceful. She tried to remember if he was always like that.

"Ready?" she heard Boone ask. She looked up to find him pulling on his pack and grabbing his rifle. With a nod, she scooped up Rex and fell in behind Boone as they headed out.

The closer they got the more vegetation started to pop up. Arria marveled at all the green, especially the trees. The smell that met her nose was…new. It woke her up and put a spring in her step. It was so fresh, the air so clean and crisp. She marveled as the temperature cooled her warm skin, slowly dropping as they went higher up in the mountain. The only thing that was similar to the Mojave was the broken stretch of road they were following.

After sneaking past some bighorners and taking care of some giant mantises, Arria began to walk beside Boone instead of behind him. He didn't make any comment, just watched her from the corner of his eye. Up ahead, she could see sharpened logs and huge jagged branches lined up against one another, a fence for giants. Said giants loitered around the entrance, some watching their approach distrustfully. Behind their perimeter, a massive building stood completely intact, a testament of the time before the Great War. Boone stopped short, the sight of so many super mutants unsettling him.

"This Jacobstown?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.

She shifted Rex's weight and nodded, eyeing the hulking figures. "Well, they haven't opened fire yet. That's a good sign, right?"

Boone grunted with a shrug of his shoulders. "Let's get this over with."

She nodded, and they began walking cautiously forward. Every step cracked the brittle ground under foot. Every step brought more eyes upon them until all eyes were watching them. Before they knew it, they were standing in front of the entrance, the super mutants and Nightkins eyeing them wearily. One finally stepped forward, his shoulders and body covered in heavy pieces of metal.

"Welcome to Jacobstown, humans. You're free to walk around, just don't stare at the Nightkin. They don't like people looking at them. And if you're NCR, keep it to yourself. They're not popular around here," the super mutant warned them, glancing at Boone. Something bristled inside her, a deep-seated need to protect her sniper, but she pushed it down. They hadn't done anything to him yet.

Instead, she'd try the friendly approach. "Thank you. I'm Arria. This is Boone and Rex. We're here to see Dr. Henry. Do you know where we could find him?"

"I'm Marcus, mayor of Jacobstown. Pleasure to meet you. You can find him in the main building, first right as you walk in," he explained. She thanked him and politely bowed out from the conversation. With Boone following her and Rex still secure in her arms, she made her way to the main building.


	25. Chapter 25

"That's enough," Caesar barked. Vulpes watched as a woman came out from behind the son of Mars, her eyes down cast and submissive. She quickly pulled off her gloves and placed them in her doctor's bag. Vulpes watched her face. One could call her attractive if they were into profligates. He was only mildly intrigued. More like a case of been there, done that. As she walked out, he could have sworn she winked at him, a silent invitation back into her bed. He filed that away for later.

"Come here, Vulpes. Tell me your news," Caesar called to him. He tore his eyes away from the retreating woman and walked closer. The son of Mars looked worn, dark circles around his eyes and more creases than the last time he was here. Vulpes pushed away his feeling of dread. His lord would be fine. He had to be. The Legion needed him.

"Ave," he mumbled with a bow. "I have news from New Vegas. My lord, someone has entered the Lucky 38."

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the news wash over Caesar. It took a second, but finally, acknowledgement dawned across his worn face. "Do you know who it was?"

"It was Arria, my lord," Vulpes gritted his teeth. Caesar wasn't in a good mood to begin with. This was likely to throw him over the edge. He waited for the yelling to begin.

"Are you sure?" Caesar asked, his eyebrows knitting together. Before he could answer, the older man waved his hand. "Of course you would know whether or not it was her."

Any second now and he would start screaming. Vulpes braced himself. To his immense surprise, however, Caesar started to smile. Eventually, it led to a chuckle. Finally, he sobered enough to look at Vulpes. "I think it's time to bring our lost daughter back home, don't you? Leave tomorrow at first light, and get her back here. We have much to discuss, her and I."

Vulpes knew when he was dismissed and left the tent with haste. The sun was beginning to set over The Fort, casting everything in a very fitting shade of red. This was his favorite time of day. It was the reign of long shadows and mystery. He took a deep breath, looking over his home. Men were packing up and getting ready to turn in. Women were hustling around, preparing food or finishing laundry. This was how it should be. Not like on the Strip where people would just now be waking up, ready for a night full of debauchery and ill judgment. Everything was ordered here, just the way he liked it.

He looked over at the highest and closest hill. Her ghost still sat there, scowling down at the camp. Soon enough she would be back here with him, where she belonged. And he would never let her go again. With thoughts of her buzzing in his head, he began the short walk to the doctor's tent, hell-bent on releasing a little tension of his own.

* * *

Rex ran around happily, his brain no longer an issue. Boone watched the cyber-dog hop about with something like relief spreading through him. It had been close. They hadn't been there to watch the surgery, though. Arria had offered to help with the doctor's research as a thank you for helping them. That had been interesting. Boone still had bites that had yet to heal. Fucking Night Stalkers. But, it had made Arria feel better. He noticed that she hated having a debt, and shedding a little blood was an acceptable form of payment apparently.

But, it was all over with. Arria had somehow talked their way out of a bad situation with some pissed off Nightkin, and they were on their way that very day. They were just now making it down off the mountain. He kind of missed it. Not all the crazy Nightkin, hell no. More like the snow. That had been sort of fun. He could still see Arria dancing away from his barrage of snowballs, laughing with snow sprinkled in her hair. It still brought a slight smirk to his face, which made him scowl with frustration. He was supposed to be killing Legion scum, not dancing around on a mountain top like Frosty the fucking snowman.

Every time he thought about leaving, though, he couldn't. Something kept him right next to the courier. He couldn't really explain it, nor did he want to. It was better to ignore whatever caused this phenomenon. He didn't need any more complications. Besides, he wasn't going to be around much longer to do anything about it if fate had any say in the matter. Bad guys didn't deserve happy endings.

Arria turned to look at him, a smile on her lips. Sunlight pirouetted in her hair and turned it caramel. Her eyes danced with mirth, the color of clear water. It was refreshing to see them not narrowed. They had a nice almond shape to them. There was an ever present spark that seemed to flicker, though, no matter what her mood. It was kind of nice. He scowled. Her smile abated slightly. He looked away. It seemed like he always made her falter.

She turned back around, confusion written on her furrowed brow. Rex became more subdue, feeding off their energy. Boone sighed. Why did he always have to do that? Arria took aim and fired her gun at a target he couldn't see. He doubted there was anything there in the first place. She took a couple more shots before she lowered her gun, her shoulders tense. He noticed that she had been tense for a few days now, at least around him. He couldn't figure out why. At first, he tried to ignore it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't ignore the fact that that fleeting smile had been the first one he had seen in a few days.

Hopefully she would be better when they met back up with Veronica and Cass. Something about women bonding time. He just hoped she wouldn't be drinking. She couldn't handle it, even if she thought she did. He'd end up holding her hair back while she threw up into the toilet again. With a slight smirk, Boone looked toward the skyline of New Vegas, getting closer with every step.

* * *

Smoke swirled around Cass, and the ice clinked in her glass. She wasn't one for ice normally, but the bartender was an idiot. He didn't seem to know that ice diluted the whiskey. Jackass. It didn't burn the same way when it went down. She finished it off and tapped the table for the dealer to add another card to her stack. Hmmm. 16. Tricky, tricky, tricky. Ah, what the hell? He hit her again. Goddammit. Bust.

Her eyes flickered to her target as the dealer took her chips. Benny was still sitting at the end of the casino surrounded by body guards, a cocky smile on his lips. She wanted to go slap that smile right off his slimy little face. What he did was absolutely unacceptable. Who shot the people who delivered everyone's mail? There was just no sport in it, no decency.

Anyways, he was the most boring target ever. All he fucking did was sit around. Sometimes he would sneak off toward the elevators, probably to drain the snake. She wouldn't really know, though. That was Veronica's area. If he left the gambling floor, Veronica was on his tail. Suited Cass just fine. There wasn't booze anywhere else.

Speaking of, she motioned for another one. It came quicker than a teenage boy's first time. With ice. Goddammit. Where did this bartender learn his fucking trade? She was about to get up and teach the idiot a lesson when suddenly the smoke swirled and natural light filled the end of the gambling floor. All eyes swiveled as a skinny man in a nice suit swaggered in. His lips quirked up in a show of self-confidence, and his ice blue eyes scanned the room, like Arria's did. His shoulders were wide, his waist narrow. Cass smirked. She would ride that man until next Tuesday if she could.

He walked past her, his suit pulling tight around his crotch. She'd salivate if it wouldn't make her obvious. Ah what the hell? Her mouth watered until he walked right over to where Benny was. His bodyguards tensed as they waited for their boss to give them a sign. Cass began to wish she could read lips as the man began talking. The more he said, the whiter Benny became. Finally, Benny held up his hands, pleading. Before she knew it, they were walking out together, leaving his bodyguards bemused.

With a sigh, she gulped down her watered down whiskey and stood up. Veronica's head popped from around the corner, a question written on the wrinkles of her forehead. Cass nodded her head, a sign that they should follow. She didn't know how effective they'd be, but they had a job to do. Wouldn't be a good idea to let Arria down.

They followed the unlikely duo all the way to the gates out of New Vegas. Benny rambled the whole way, almost begging. The man in the suit held him firmly beside him, his grip almost a vice. Cass watched as the well-dressed man ushered Benny past the gates and out of their line of sight. They stopped, not sure what to do next. Veronica voiced their predicament poignantly.

"So, what the hell do we do now?" the scribe sighed, stomping her foot slightly. Days and days of watching all for nothing. Arria couldn't get her revenge if the asshole wasn't even there. Cass scowled. This wasn't going to end well.

"Well, we could go back to the Tops and wait for him, see if he comes back. And hell, there's booze there," Cass suggested, slinging an arm around Veronica. She watched as the idea bounced around the scribes head until she nodded.

"Nothing else to do, I guess," she groaned. They turned in unison and made their way back.

* * *

The look on the King's face was perfect, exactly what Arria needed after that long and quiet trek. When Rex barked and ran up to him, his all-consuming smile was contagious. That is until he wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug and lifted her in the air. Their bodies mashed together reminded her explicitly of the night they had shared and made her rather uncomfortable. Especially since Boone was glaring at them from the doorway. When he finally put her down, she gave him an awkward smile.

"Thank you, Legs. He hasn't been this happy in a long time. I knew you could do it," he beamed. His smile still melted her heart a bit.

"No problem. Least I could do," she mumbled, her fingers twisting awkwardly. "Well, I have to get going."

With a quick goodbye, no kiss, she left with Boone in tow. The silence between them was practically more than she could take. So far, she had managed to beat down any and all feelings that had sprung up thus far. She could look at him and not feel too awkward. It was a small accomplishment.

"That wasn't so bad," she tried to smile at him as they left the King's House of Impersonations. The absence of Rex could be felt more than she expected.

"I guess," Boone grunted, eyeing a guy stumbling a bit too close.

"Quite an adventure we had, huh?"

"Yeah."

"So, um…thanks. You know, for having my back. You didn't have to come."

His eyebrows practically knitted together. "Like I'd let you wander alone."

She couldn't stop the stupid smile. He probably just didn't want her to get shot again, but it still made her happy. She became happier still when she walked onto The Strip. Veronica and Cass became closer and closer with each step. Girl talk was most definitely needed. When they got to the doors of the Lucky 38, Arria stopped and turned to Boone.

"You should probably go get the girls. Meet me up there in ten minutes. I'm going to take a bath." She didn't know why she added that last part, but it succeeded in getting him to leave.

The elevator ride up was uneventful. Victor waved at her as she made her way to the bathtub. Stupid robot. He still gave her the creeps. She half waved back, eager to get into the warm bath water and scrub off all the dirt from the road.

The cleansing water was everything she expected it to be and more. Her muscles unknotted almost instantly, and she sighed. It was beyond bliss. Thank god for the small things. She leaned back and let the water wash over her shoulders. The longer she laid there, the darker the water became. With a sigh, she quickly washed her hair and body. There was a time for lounging in bath water; this wasn't one of them. Unfortunately.

When Arria walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, hair sopping yet fully clothed, she was tackled by a squealing Veronica. She smiled and hugged her back, resting her cheek against the shorter woman's forehead. An embrace was something she wasn't used to anymore but appreciated it all the same. There was something comforting about it. When Veronica let go, Arria stood there awkwardly, waiting for Cass to do something. In true form, Cass handed her a shot of whiskey and a nod. With a smile, she knocked it back.

"So, I do believe I owe you girls breakfast…well, lunch now, I guess," she smirked. "Are you going to come with us Boone?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm going to hang around here. Tired."

She could understand that, almost envied him. Almost. Sleep was inviting, but she had so missed her girls. Besides, she wanted to know exactly what they had learned about Benny.

"Understandable," she smiled, not quite meeting his eyes. "So, where can we get food around here?"

* * *

"You're kidding me, right?" Arria snorted, staring down the dress Veronica held up. It was a red sheath of a thing, slinky and tight.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," Cass agreed. She eyed it like it could bite. "How is she even going to breath in that thing?"

"Hey! I'm not that big!" Suddenly, Arria didn't care how slutty it looked. She wanted to prove Cass wrong.

"I'm just sayin' you'd have to be a bean pole to wiggle around in that." Cass threw up her hands when Arria started undressing. Veronica clapped her hands delightedly.

"It just fits your personality so well!"

Arria stopped with her pants half way down her legs. "Are you saying I'm slutty?"

Veronica and Cass stared at her, struck dumb by what she had asked. Suddenly, they busted out laughing, almost as if to break the silence.

"No, I'm not calling you slutty," the scribe panted. After she caught her breath, she continued. "I just mean it's sexy and kind of dangerous. Like you." Cass nodded in agreement, pouring everyone a shot.

"And, you're the talk of the town. You need to make a statement," Cass handed her the tiny glass of amber liquid. Arria stared at them, slightly perplexed with shot in hand and pants around ankles.

"What do you mean, talk of the town? I haven't been here for a week."

The girls exchanged looks before answering her. Cass cleared her throat. "You were the first person to enter the Lucky 38 for hundreds of years. People are gonna talk."

"Yeah. The rumors are just getting bigger," Veronica concurred. "Apparently you're a long-lost relative of Mr. House?"

Arria snorted. If they only knew who she was related to. "Then, I guess you're right. I do have to make a statement." This time, when she made a statement, it wouldn't be by placing profligate heads on sticks.

* * *

The lights of New Vegas were beautiful in a "look at me" kind of way. It was a bit hard for Arria to deal with so much commotion, being used to quiet camp fires and dinky tents. As Arria walked past the light show that was The Strip, she tried to pretend they were stars, and she was flying through the atmosphere. Each flash of man-made light bulb was the death and birth of a star. The black pavement of the road was starless sky. It was sort of peaceful…until an NCR soldier let out a howl. She scowled. Sometimes people ruined everything. She glared at the scoundrel as he staggered by with his bottle of amber liquid, accompanied by the airs of a drunk.

"Some people just can't handle their drink," she sniffed as Veronica linked arms with her.

"Like you can talk," Boone snorted from the back of the group. She decided to ignore that comment.

When he saw her statement dress, he refused to let her out of the hotel room without him. Something about sick perverts wandering around. She had just shrugged. If he felt up to it, having him around was perfectly fine with her. She had made him wear a tux, though, much to his displeasure. Boone in a tuxedo was a very interesting sight and a wonderful idea on Arria's part, as far as she was concerned. His shoulders filled it out wonderfully, and the pants hung loose around his hips. He refused to fix the tie, though. It hung loose and swung with every step. After a second, she had to look away from him. He was a reluctant heart throb in his suit, and she was his reluctant admirer.

Before she knew it, they stood before the Ultra-Luxe. The building exuded refinement and grace, no ostentatious light show. A fountain splashed merrily as they walked past, the lights around it almost looking like steps. Arria vaguely wondered how many drunken people had to be chased out of its clear waters. As the group walked up the stairs, lights ushered them forward almost promising elegance and style.

When the group walked in, Arria blinked. Everything was so…clean and white. The whole room exuded exclusion. She vaguely wondered how the people who worked here could see over how far their noses were stuck up in the air. She shook away that thought as a man with a very creepy masked walked up to them.

"Beg your pardon, but could I trouble you to turn over your weapons?" the greeter asked. Arria kept the smirk from her face. Cass had told her the people who owned casinos would want her to turn over her weapons, so she instructed everyone to have at least one hideout weapon somewhere on their body. Hers was strapped around her ankle. She turned over the 10mm in her purse to throw him off. The man looked her over but stopped when he got to her face.

"You're Arria, the first person to go into the Luck 38, are you not?"

"Guilty," she smiled.

"Well, if there is anything, and I mean anything, the Ultra-Luxe can do for you, please let me know."

"Now that you mention it, sir, we would like a table for four, if you would be so kind."

"Of course. It would be a pleasure. Please have a drink at the bar while we get you a table."

And with that, creepy masked man was off. Cass led them to the bar with a thirsty look in her eyes. Men and women alike watched as Arria walked past, their eyes drawn to her and her red dress. Something inside her awoke, a peacock of sorts waiting to strut, and confidence flooded through her. Damn, this was a good dress. She turned to find Boone's eyes on her, a look quite foreign painted on his face. If she didn't know any better, Arria would say it was thinly veiled desire.

Instead of doing what her body sang to do, she sat down at the bar and waited for her drink to come. It would do no good to act on hormones, especially with Boone. He would forever belong to Carla, and no skimpy red dress was going to change that.

The bartender handed her a skinny glass filled with clear liquid. She didn't ask what it was before sipping, a mistake at best. Fighting a cough, she re-examined the fluke in her hand. Goddammit was it strong. Cass knocked hers back and then ordered another. The redhead smirked at Arria, almost a challenge in itself. A challenge that she wasn't going to take.

"Do you have any children?" a plaintive voice asked next to her. She glanced over at her neighbor, an old rugged looking man with white hair. His face was beginning to sag with age and wrinkles webbed their way across his face. The suit he wore proclaimed that he was rich. "Huh. Look at you. With that figure, I'd say no. Well, good for you. Don't have any. Nothing but trouble," the man grumbled.

"Excuse me?" she asked, taken aback by his forwardness.

"No, excuse me. Heck Gunderson. I'm looking for my son," the man explained. "You ain't seen a young man with dark hair and a white hat on lately, have you?"

Arria shook her head. "No, I haven't."

Heck sighed, a mixture of exasperation and sadness. "Ain't nobody got one darned piece of news about my boy? Not one lousy speck of information? Ain't got one Brahmin unaccounted for across a dozen ranches, but I'm here for one hours and my own son just up and disappears on me." She was going to point out that people tended to have more free will, but the man sounded desperate. She didn't know the love of a child, but she did remember her mother and her love.

"You lost your son?"

"My boy, Ted. He was right here. I didn't leave him but a minute. I told him to stay put while I talked some things over with the White Glove folks. He never was one to stay tied down to a spot, though. Gets that from his mother," Heck waved it away. "Got most of my staff out looking for him now, but I keep hoping he'll show up back here. 'Course if he does that I'll whup him till his skinny hide turns to leather for putting me through this. But, that don't mean I won't be grateful."

Arria's brow crinkled. This man needed help. She sighed. Hopefully her companions would forgive her. "Let me help you find your son," she offered.

"I'd be more than happy to have you. Heck, I'll hire anyone with a pair of legs and at least one good eye at this point. There'd be a lot of money in it for you if you can get him back to me safe. And if he ain't, you can bet I'll pay for the names of the sons of bitches responsible," Heck growled.

"I'll do my best," she promised before she turned back toward her friends.

Boone was glaring at her while Veronica and Cass just stared. "Well, looks like lunch will have to wait, guys."


	26. Chapter 26

I just want to say that I have the best readers. You guys make my days so much better, and you keep me writing when I don't want to do anything at all. Basically, thank you guys. You will never know how much all this means to me. Okay, enough mush. Enjoy the chapter.

* * *

Blood dried maroon on her already red dress. She clutched the dress cane in her hands until her knuckles turned white. The man that had assassinated her informant lay crumpled at her feet. Arria cursed under her breath and ran a hand through her recently mussed hair. Well, at least she had gotten as much as she had out of him before the son of a bitch interrupted. Boone and Cass ran in followed by Veronica. So much for lookouts.

"I am so glad we didn't eat here," Arria panted, throwing back a loose strand of hair. Boone moved a bit closer, reaching out his hand to wipe away a drop of blood from under her eye. It seemed that he realized what he had done after the fact and quickly stepped away. He touched her. Of his own free will. Arria quickly shook away the surprise. They only had so much time.

"So, anyways, they have Ted here in the hotel, and they're planning on…eating him. Well, Mortimer is, at least. Their dinner is at 7; so, we have…" she checked her Pipboy. "…three hours. Okay. Okay. Okay. Alright, Cass, you and Veronica go back to the Lucky 38 and get me something…anything else to wear instead of this thing. I can't move in it. A couple of stealth boys would be good…and any weapons you can hide. No…wait…just the stealth boys and the clothes. Hand to hand would be quieter."

Yes, she was thinking out loud, but this was the first time she actually had been confronted by cannibalism. Sure, some of the tribes that had been assimilated into Caesar's Legion had been rumored to eat the weak, but it was a taboo topic. It had been beaten out of them, and if they did still practice it, well, they did it in private. Arria had to take a deep breath. Of all the things in the Mojave, this would be the thing to freak her out.

"Ok, we'll meet you in the lobby in 30 minutes." Without argument, Veronica led Cass out of the steam room, leaving Boone and Arria alone. He watched the courier intently as she ran her hands over her face. He was about to ask if she was ok when she dropped her hands and began searching the assassin at her feet. It was quick and efficient, ending with her tossing a silenced .22 at him.

"Hide that the best you can," Arria mumbled as she made her way out of the steam room.

* * *

Vulpes threw his captive in front of Caesar, on his knees like the dog that he was. Blood dripped from the man's face, a testament to Vulpes' rage. This was the profligate that shot Arria. He was the reason she did not remember who she really was, who he was. The cowering piece of scum was lucky Vulpes hadn't just killed him. But they needed him.

"This is how we are going to get Arria back here," Vulpes announced, with a small bow to his lord. The son of Mars sat forward and examined the man in front of him.

"Who is this? Her boyfriend?" Caesar asked, a smirk playing on his lips. The Frumentarii leader fought back his anger and disgust. The son of Mars always had enjoyed pushing his buttons.

"No, my lord," Vulpes managed through a tight jaw. "He is the one that shot her. He is a coward, but Arria will come to get revenge." Caesar's eyebrow rose in surprise and intrigue.

"You shot Arria, profligate?" the son of Mars barked, addressing the bound man in front of him. Benny flinched back as if the words were painful.

"I'm assuming that was her name. Didn't really catch it before I pulled the trigger," Benny admitted, trying to be brave. Before he could stop himself, Vulpes grabbed the man by the collar, a forceful punch connecting with his jaw. Benny's head flew back with a groan. Caesar held up a hand before he could do it again.

"Enough Vulpes," he ordered. Gritting his teeth, Vulpes pushed the man away, anger coursing through his veins. "So, tell me, profligate, why did you shoot our lost daughter?"

Benny looked like he had been blown away. He must not have realized he had messed with the Legion. Well, too fucking bad. Vulpes itched for the moment Caesar would dismiss them. He wasn't done with the dissolute bastard yet.

Vulpes pulled the chip the man had coveted from his pocket. "I believe this is why, my lord. She was delivering it the night he shot her. He refuses to confirm it, either way."

Caesar sat back in his chair, his index finger outlining his lips. It was an eternity before he spoke next, but finally he looked at the man who was like a son. "Get an answer."

The smile that appeared on Vulpes' lips was blood thirsty at best. When he moved to grab the profligate's collar, however, Benny began to sputter.

"Yes, yes, that was why I shot her. House wanted it for something; so, it must be important. I took it before he could get it. I honestly don't know what it does," he babbled, his bound hands shaking in fear. Vulpes hissed with anger. Shot for a fucking chip. He had never been so livid.

"Thank you for your honesty, profligate," Caesar nodded. "Vulpes, how about you show our _guest_ where he will be sleeping and make sure he's extra comfortable. Don't want him to get hurt during his wait for Arria, do we?" His underlying message came through loud and clear. Benny would be hanging from a pole until she arrived.

"With pleasure, my lord," Vulpes smiled, the blood singing in his veins. He grabbed the profligate underneath the arm and lifted him to his feet. A bit of his own personal revenge wouldn't hurt in the meantime.

"And Vulpes," Caesar called before he disappeared out of the tent. The Frumentarii leader quickly turned, impatience written in his every movement. "Leave out and tell Arria at first light. Get her here by any means, not that you'll really need it with him around."

With a quick nod of acknowledgement, Vulpes pushed the man out of the tent and toward the long line of cut down telephone poles away from camp. He didn't want to be interrupted, not during this. He still had some fun to get out of the doomed man walking in front of him.

"What are you going to do?" Benny panted in pain. Vulpes smirked a hungry smirk.

"The question is: what am I not going to do?" he growled. "And the answer to that is kill you. Arria will have that honor. It is only right."

"Sure it is," Benny mumbled. Vulpes stopped him in front of a vacant pole and pulled out his knife.

"Welcome to your new home, profligate," he said, gesturing to the pole behind Benny. The man in the suit eyed his knife wearily, jumping at every movement.

"A welcome home present?" he gulped, referring to the knife.

Vulpes chuckled humorlessly. "Not quite." He cut the ropes that bound his hands and grabbed his right one. With almost reverence, he steadied the knife against Benny's trigger finger. "More like a carrot to make Arria come faster." And with one swift movement, he brought the knife down.

* * *

The smell that radiated from the sizzling meat wasn't what Arria would call appetizing. The meat itself was sort of greasy, shiny and pale. If that was what human flesh looked like cooked, then she would pass. Thank god it was just imitation. Arria checked her Pipboy. Twenty minutes before the feast. She went over her mental check list. Everything was done, ready to expose Mortimer for the cannibal he really was. All she had to do was not burn the gross glob of meat sizzling in the pan in front of her.

Cass and Boone watched over her shoulder while Veronica made sure the kid was ok. They had made it just in time. Philippe was just about to kill him when they walked in. Thank god for deep-seated emotional issues. Veronica had been able to talk the chef down before he made the killing blow.

"Ugh that stuff smells like ball sacks!" Cass exclaimed as she moved away from Arria. Boone followed, his nose wrinkled.

The courier pretended to be offended. "And this is why I don't cook. Everyone has to be a critic." With a horrifying squishy sound, she flipped it over. Fighting back a gag, she stepped away as well, the sleeve of Boone's jacket over her nose.

"Let's just call the waiter down," Boone suggested, keeping a good distance away from the meat. Everyone agreed, quickly moving to the freezer while the sniper stepped over to the intercom.

"When my daddy finds out what happened, I swear this whole place is going down. Everyone here is screwed. I hope this place burns to the ground."

Arria gritted her teeth. That kid hadn't shut up since they rescued him, and it didn't help that he wasn't being as quiet as they needed him to be. She was ready to hit him when Boone rushed into the freezer and shut the door. Ted continued on his rant, his voice carrying out into the kitchen. With a growl, Boone turned to the kid and knocked the air out of him with a punch to the stomach.

"Do us all a favor and shut up," he snarled. "Your mouth is going to get us caught."

Arria gawked with surprise. Boone normally wasn't violent when it came to people not in the Legion. She was rather impressed, actually. Slowly, she found herself moving closer to the sniper until she was practically under his arm. If he asked, she'd tell him it was cold. It was easier than admitting that she just wanted to be close to him. He tensed for a second, unsure of what to do. Gradually, his muscles relaxed until his weight leaned against her and his arm moved ever so slightly, just enough for her to lean against his shoulder. Together, in their own little bubble, they listened for the waiter. The seconds ticked by, slowly leading into what felt like an eternity

"Tighter than a virgin in there," Cass muttered, as she made her way out of the freezer. The waiter came and left ten minutes ago, muttering about lack of presentation. Everyone made their way past Boone and Arria. The courier was reluctant to move, warm and cozy as they were. But, she untangled herself and walked out second to last. Ted kept his distance and his silence, not keen on getting hit again.

"So, now we wait," Arria mumbled. She had to push down the little voice that told her to grab Boone and head back to the freezer. Instead, she leaned against the counter, as far away from Boone as she could without seeming awkward. How long would a fancy feast take, anyways?

Arria began to think back to the discussion she had earlier with Marjorie. The White glove Society had gained a new honorary member, though now she was rather unsure. It wasn't like she had been dying to join in the first place; it had just been to get access to member's only areas. But by the way Marjorie had talked about her cause made Arria believe she didn't know about Mortimer's little stunt. For a stuck-up snob, Marjorie wasn't so bad. Arria wouldn't go out of her way to hang out with her, but she wasn't going to pin this on her. No, this whole stunt was all Mortimer. Creepy bastard.

The courier checked her Pipboy again. 7:19. God, time flew. All eyes watched her as she pushed herself into a standing position. With a nod of her head, she walked toward to door. After a quick glance down the hall for guards, she turned to her companions.

"Alright. Time to split up. I want Cass and Boone at the exits in case he decides to run. Veronica, go find Heck and tell him he'll have his son in a few minutes and to be patient. Ted, you're with me," Arria demanded, giving no room to argue. She turned and began walking without looking at Boone. He'd just have to get over it.

The courier led her charge down the hall and up the stairs, crouching as they got closer to the door. The pair scuttled behind a half wall near the banquet just as Mortimer stood up to give his speech. The clinking of cutlery and the sounds of polite conversations slowly whittled away. Finally, he began, his voice as slimy as the meat.

"I know I'm not the scheduled speaker, but I have a few words, if I may. There was a time not so long ago when we were bound together not as members but as family. As a clan. And when Mr. House came to us with his proposal, we accepted, knowing we stood to gain much. Little did we know how much we'd lose in the process. As a society, we've endeavored to sample to finest food and drink the world has to offer. But, we are living a lie. There is a meat sweeter than the most cornfed livestock. Most of you have tasted it. All of you have coveted it. Among us, it is a crime to discuss a return to the old ways that unified our people. Tonight, that all changes. The taboo ends."

Arria heard hands slap the table and a chair scrape against the floor. "Let me finish, Marjorie," Mortimer demanded. "You don't know it yet, but you are all guilty of a greater crime. One that ordinarily bears the harshest of punishments. Surely that you are all guilty not only warrants not only universal amnesty but also a renewed discussion. For our society to be truly élite, we must dine on the most delicious, the most exclusive food known to us. And tonight, for the first time as a society, you are sampling that very dish, the meat we are forbidden to taste, the way it was meant to be eaten!"

Arria scowled. If that was the way it was meant to be eaten, then that was just gross. She should know. She cooked it. It was time to end his little charade. With a nod, Arria and Ted stood up and walked up to Mortimer's side. The body guards looked as if they were ready to strike them down, their dress canes raised. When the cannibal leader turned to see who was beside him, his face turned white. Arria grinned back at him.

"Bad news, Mortimer," she announced loudly. All eyes swiveled in their direction. "No one is eating the boy you kidnapped tonight."

"What are you-?" His eyes traveled over Ted. "Why is he there? Who are we eating right now?"

"Sorry, Mortimer. Secret recipe. It isn't human, though, I can tell you that."

The cannibal shook his head violently. "No! These are lies!" he insisted. "I never kidnapped anyone. And even if I did, there's no harm done. He's alive, after all."

Arria watched as beads of sweat rolled down from his forehead. She grinned wider. "Too late. You've already said too much."

Mortimer turned to the angry crowd that was amassing at his feet, a look of anger and disgust painted on his face. "You're all hypocrites!" he spat. "How can you claim to be connoisseurs yet deny yourselves the greatest of all meats? I am ashamed to have once called everyone here family! This isn't over, though. You will all here from me again!" With that final proclamation, he ran past Arria, pushing her roughly aside. He was running towards Boone's solid form.

Quickly, Mortimer grabbed a dress cane from a nearby guard and struck Boone hard in the face. She watched the sniper crumple, her muscles moving before she even realized what she was doing. Over railings and tables she leapt, eventually tackling the cannibal before he got to the door. With anger coursing through her veins, she smashed his head against the plush carpet repeatedly until it was stained red and brains flowed like water. When she was done, she made her way back to a dazed and bleeding Boone. Cass and Veronica had beaten her to him, the scribe trying to stop the bleeding. The redhead, however, watched the people around them, making sure no one tried to retaliate.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, taking over Veronica's work. The courier grabbed his chin and pulled him closer to get a better look at the gash. Blood ran quickly over his eyebrow and down his face no matter how much she dabbed. The wound was short but not nearly as shallow as she would have liked.

"Fine," he growled, fixing his sunglasses and beret. He didn't pull away, though.

"We should get you to a doctor," she sighed, holding the rag to the wound. She shifted uncomfortably, realizing that she was practically in his lap.

"I'm fine," he insisted, gently taking over her failing nursing attempts. He applied pressure where she was afraid to. Arria watched his green eyes become fuzzy with pain.

"Well, then, they can confirm it for me. We're going as soon as we return Ted. Meet me in the lobby when you can walk," she demanded, quickly removing herself from his lap. She motioned for Ted to follow her as they made their way over to the gambling floor. She kicked Mortimer's body as she passed it. As soon as they were in eye sight, Heck Gunderson rose from his chair and stared at his son.

"Oh my god! Ted! Are you all right?" he clucked, every bit the worried father.

"Quit your hollering," the son groused. "I'm fine."

Ted turned to her, a smile on his wrinkled face. "You got me my boy back. I got no words. Now, I hope you didn't do no harm to whoever's responsible for this. I wanna skin their hides myself."

Arria looked away. "It was Mortimer, one of the White Gloves, who had Ted taken. He's sort of a cannibal."

The older man's face turned bright red with rage. "Well, that does it! None of them maniacs will ever do business with Heck Gunderson long as they live. Hell, I'll put me together a damn blockade. Hit 'em where it hurts. They control the food? Well, there ain't gonna be no food. Not for anybody in this whole damn town! It's a goddamned monument to inhumanity. Let 'em starve. Biggest favor anyone's ever done this hell hole!" Heck ranted, his face a lovely plum color by the time he was done. He had worked himself into a frenzy. Arria was waiting for him to start foaming at the mouth.

She held up her hands in a calming manner, maintaining eye contact. "That's just what they'd want. You'd be driving the city to eat each other," she reasoned, watching the wheels turn in his head.

He took the cowboy hat from his head and ran his fingers through the little hair he had. "I don't like this place. Whole Strip, really. Ever since I got here, the stink of it…it's flooded my nostrils. But, you got a point. They're already hell-bent on depravity here. All I'd be doing is helping them along," he admitted with a sigh. After returning his hat to its proper place, he handed Arria a bag of caps. "All right. I promised I'd make it worth your while, so here you are. Try not to lose it all at the same casino."

A smile and a thank you later, she made her way back to her group. Boone was leaning against a nearby wall, the rag pressed against his head looking too red for her comfort. Cass and Veronica eyed him nervously. She walked over to the girls, tucking the caps away for right now.

"I'm going to take him to the Followers. He's going to need support, so could you guys cover us? We don't need any more injuries right now, and he's not in fighting shape."

They nodded in unison, earning a grateful smile from the courier. Arria handed her pack to Veronica and walked over to Boone. Before he could utter a single argument, she wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled his arm around her neck, supporting his weight and moving him forward.


	27. Chapter 27

I know this is kind of long and a lot of dialogue, but I promise this is leading somewhere. I hope you guys enjoy! And if you celebrate Christmas, Merry (belated) Christmas. If you don't well, just know that I'm sending good thoughts your way anyways. Thanks guys.

* * *

The skin around Arria's thumb began to bleed as she tore a sliver away with her teeth. It was a nervous habit that she thought she had kicked a long time ago. Sitting next to Boone while some blond doctor stitched his head closed must have brought it back to the surface. With four shots of med-x, Boone didn't look like he was feeling much of anything, but Arria couldn't let go of the fear that had curled deep in her stomach. It was a new emotion, one she was not accustomed to and did not like. With unfocused eyes, the sniper looked her over and smiled a dopey smile. The one she returned to him was half-hearted.

Veronica leaned her head on Arria's shoulder, worry written on her face as well. The courier squeezed her hand, silently reassuring as best she could. Cass was outside the tent with a flask of whiskey, dealing with what happened in her own way. Arria couldn't blame her. In fact, she sort of envied her. An escape from this unhappy reality sounded really good.

Arria watched as the doctor neatly finished the stitch, his thin lips pursed in concentration. When they had walked in, every other doctor had been busy, leaving only the reluctant doctor in front of her to help them. He had claimed to be bad with bed side manner. She had insisted that she didn't give a shit. All that had mattered was that he could fix her sniper.

"You said a dress cane did this?" the blond doctor asked, his eyes glancing at Arria. Quickly, he used his shoulder to push his black rimmed glasses further up his nose.

"A dress cane and a lot of force," the courier nodded, unconsciously pulling Boone's jacket tighter around her. It still smelled like him.

"So, just for future reference, where were you? You know, so that I don't go there and get bludgeoned over the head."

Arria snorted as she ran a hand through her hair. "Believe it or not, we were at the Ultra-Luxe. Hence, the dress cane."

"Did you say something against the food? I heard the chef has a temper."

From outside, Cass gave a rough laugh. Arria interpreted for the redhead. "You could say that."

They left it at that. The courier wasn't exactly ready to deal with what had happened. She was just focusing on Boone and making sure he was ok. After that, well, then maybe.

"Ok. I'm just going to bandage him up and then you can take him back. Just don't let him sleep yet. Wait for a few hours and get a decent conversation out of him beforehand. And when he does fall asleep, wake him every few hours to make sure he can still talk," the doctor instructed.

"Thank you…I'm sorry, but I didn't catch your name," Arria smiled awkwardly.

"Arcade Gannon, the stitchery of wounds and studier of useless knowledge, at your service. And you are?"

"Arria…Tamarisk." The last name came out harder than she expected now that she knew who she really was. "The one with the stitches is Boone. This is Veronica, and Cass is out there with the flask."

"Pleasure to meet all of you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have fruitless yet semi-noble research to get back to."

The courier tilted her head to the side, the tone of his voice throwing her off a bit. "You don't sound the least bit enthusiastic."

The doctor shrugged it off, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm enthusiastic about helping people, but nihil novi sub sole."

"Nihi-what?" Cass could be heard from outside the tent.

"It means nothing new under the sun," Arria answered before she thought about the repercussions. Thank whatever was up there that Boone was doped up. Everyone stared at her, even the blond doctor. She shrugged, working hard to keep her face a blank mask. "Context clues."

"Where did you learn that?" Veronica asked the doctor, pulling the attention away from Arria. The courier could have kissed her.

"Not from the Legion, if that's what you're getting at," he cautioned. "Mostly books. Sheet music. Gladiator movie holotapes. Bits and pieces here and there. The Followers have extensive libraries, but we all draw water from the same old well. Even Caesar."

"Do you know much about Caesar?" Arria asked. Her memories about him were still a bit fuzzy. Her feelings about him were conflicting.

"I don't know anything that the others couldn't tell you. Caesar was one of the Followers. Before my time, of course. He wanted to rebuild the new world in the image of the old. A sad story of good intentions gone bad. In that regard, he's hardly unique."

Arria had to hold back a snort. Caesar's intentions were never purely good. Selfish and egotistical, at best. But, Arcade continued. "If you set aside his leadership capabilities, extensive knowledge, and ruthless cunning, he's just another jerk who steps on people to get his way."

She could agree with that statement and nodded at him. But there was still something that was bothering her about the snarky man in front of her. "So, if you are so sure that you will never find anything with your research, why do you stick around?"

The doctor sat back in his chair, a look distinct perplexed look on his face. Had no one ever asked him that question before? Finally, he looked up at her, a smirk on her lips. "I guess I make good decoration."

"Well, then why don't you come with us? There's a whole wasteland out there, just waiting to be picked over. And who knows? You might be able to find a barrel cactus with healing powers in some remote corner."

"You've helped the Followers, so you can't be entirely bad," he reasoned aloud. "To be honest, I haven't heard anyone say a negative word about you. As long as you keep working to help people around here get a fair shake, sure, I'll come along."

Arria was slightly confused. She hadn't done anything for the Followers. True, no one could really say anything bad about her, but where did he get the idea that she had done anything for them? Veronica cleared her throat and smiled at the confused courier. Looks like they had some catching up to do.

"Ok. I'll give you some time to pack. Meet us back here when you're done," Arria said, her eyes not leaving Veronica. Arcade left quietly, his space being quickly occupied by Cass and her flask.

"What don't I know?"

"A lot," said Cass, tucking away her alcohol.

"Such as?"

Cass looked at Veronica. "Where to start?"

"The beginning?"

"As good a place as ever, I guess," Veronica shrugged. Arria raised an eyebrow. When did they start communicating in half sentences?

"Well, start somewhere," the courier snapped, slightly annoyed.

With one last exchange of looks, Veronica explained how Benny had been taken days after her and Boone had left. Her description of who took him was unhelpful. Tall and skinny ruled out a few people, but not enough to help Arria. All Cass could remember was the man's bulge. Before Arria could complain about Benny being gone, they continued. Apparently the duo had gone around Freeside and helped the Followers because "you never know when we might need them, especially with you being you," as Cass put it. And since most people saw them with Arria, they attributed most of the deeds to her.

"But, that's not fair," Arria protested.

Cass shrugged. "Hey, I get a discount at the Wrangler because of stuff you did there so I don't care."

"At least it was done," Veronica nodded. Arria tried to protest more. It really wasn't fair. She hadn't done anything.

"Look, we lost Benny. Now, we're even. Drop it," Cass sighed, taking a swig of her whiskey. The courier opened her mouth to argue but was quickly silenced by light snoring coming from Boone's direction. Quickly, she hopped out of her chair and flew to his side, gently shaking him until he jumped awake.

"What?" he groused, his trademark scowl losing strength from lack of sleep.

"Come on. You can't fall asleep yet. Have to stay up for a few more hours."

"Tired…" he mumbled.

"I know you are. We'll go back to the Lucky 38, and you can sleep all you like. We just have to wait for Arcade," she reassured her drowsy sniper.

"The fuck is Arcade?"

"He's the doctor who stitched you up. He's going to be traveling with us," the courier explained as she gently placed his beret and sunglasses back on his head.

"Another one?"

"Yes."

"You attract people like…well, I don't know what."

Arria chuckled. Poor guy; he was so tired. Med-x really knocked him out.

"Does that constitute a full conversation?" Veronica asked. Cass had sat down beside the scribe without Arria even noticing.

"For Boone? Pretty much," Arria smiled, snaking an arm around his to keep him upright. Quickly, guilt flooded her. To be honest, she probably wouldn't have acted so irrationally if someone other than Boone had gotten hurt. His presence made her too happy. The fact that he was going to be ok filled her with more joy that it should have. She bowed her head. Goddammit. He was just her sniper. Period. End of story.

"We can take turns waking him up every few hours, if you want," Veronica offered.

Arria shook her head. She wouldn't be able to sleep anyways. "I can do it."

Before Veronica or Cass could argue, the tent flap opened and in walked Arcade, accompanied by a refreshing breeze. He had an awkward smile plastered on his face and a worn pack slung over his shoulder. His glasses gently slid down his long nose.

"Ready?" he asked as Arria put Boone's arm around her shoulders and lifted.

"Did you tell Julie you'd be leaving?"

"As soon as I left the tent," he nodded. It was good enough for Arria. She motioned for everyone to head out first. As she began to move, Boone seemed to realize that it was time to walk and shuffled along.

* * *

The moonlight that filtered in through the penthouse window was beautiful. It was a calming effect of nature that had always soothed Arria's chaotic mind. It didn't disappoint her as she waited for Mr. House to pop up on his screen. Boone was soundly asleep in her bed downstairs; so, she took the opportunity to fill Mr. House in on her progress, or lack thereof.

With an electrical buzz, a man's condescending face flashed up on the screen. Whether it truly was the mysterious leader of New Vegas or not, she couldn't say. It was creepy enough without the idea that it was watching her. For the billionth time, she cursed her lack of technology knowledge.

"Did you get the Chip?" he asked.

"Well, hello to you, too," she sighed, turning and walking closer.

"Impertinent as always, Ms. Graham. Where's the Chip?"

"Still with Benny," she growled.

Arria heard Mr. House sigh patronizingly. "I would have thought this would be easy for you, considering your background."

"Someone took him," she explained, her voice flat with anger.

"And you are not out looking for him? I thought you were blood thirsty."

She winced. How the fuck did he know so much about her? "Look where? I don't know all of Benny's enemies. I'm sure he has plenty."

"I see your point," Mr. House conceded. "I will look into it. Meanwhile, go ask questions. Find out why he took the Chip in the first place."

"Yes, master. Want me to shine your boots, too?" she muttered, crossing her arms.

"We could match wits all night, Ms. Graham, but I believe you have a Chip to recover," Mr. House chastised. Arria rolled her eyes but made for the door anyways. It had been a while since she had checked on Boone.

"Until we meet again, Mr. Big Head," she mumbled as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

The elevator ride back to the presidential suite was short, dumping her out among her companions. Arcade sat in a high backed chair, book in hand, while Veronica and Cass played a game of Caravan in the corner. Occasionally, Arcade would look over his book and give Veronica a better strategy, much to Cass' displeasure.

"You cheating snake!" she growled, throwing down her cards. The scribe chuckled as she collected her winnings, giving some to Arcade. Arria leaned against a door frame, her arms crossed and lips curled up into a smile.

"Keep up, Cass," Veronica chirped in a sing-song voice. The redhead took a swig of her liquor of choice, the apples of her cheeks slowly turning the color of her hair. Angrily mumbling, she dealt out another hand. Arria walked over to them, picking up the odd whiskey bottle as she went.

"God, Cass. No wonder you're losing," she joked as she threw away her findings.

"That has nothing to do with it," she growled. "Got my dad's luck is all. And that jackass over there whispering into her ear. Did we have to take him along?"

"You would be lost without me," Arcade winked, returning to his book.

"Have you eaten yet?" Veronica asked, cutting off Cass before she said something particularly nasty.

"No," Arria admitted, crossing her arms. She had been too worried about Boone.

"Of course she hasn't. She's been taking care of her lover. Hasn't left her room since we got back," Cass smirked. Her cheeks still blossomed a delicate pink, probably from the drink.

Arria felt her face turn a darker shade than Cass'. "Well, someone has to look after him. And he's just my friend. That would be like you assuming something is going on with me and Arcade."

"As lovely as I find you, my dear, you're missing a few parts that I find crucial. But thanks for the thought," the doctor piped in, never putting his book down. Veronica busted out laughing.

"Shut up; you're next," she winked at the scribe before turning and walking back toward her room.

Boone's sprawled out form greeted her as she swung the door open. His beret and sunglasses lay neatly on the bedside table, and his boots sat at the foot of her bed. She watched his chest rise and fall for a few seconds before walking over and sitting down next to him. Gently, she shook his shoulder until his eyes opened into half slits.

"Hey," she smiled at him. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, simultaneously stretching his legs and twisting his back.

"Hey," he murmured, his arms falling and resting by his side.

"We match now," she joked, pulling back her hair to show him her fading scar. He reached up and prodded his welt. A goofy smile spread across his face. He was still heavily medicated for pain on Arcade's orders.

"Guess we do," he sighed. He brought his hand back down to the bed, his dilated eyes following dust particles.

"So, what do you like to do with your free time?" she asked.

He looked at her, his scowl only half what it used to be. "What?"

"Arcade said I have to wake you every few hours to make sure you can still hold conversations. That's what I'm doing."

"I can't hold conversations."

"Good point. Still not getting you out of it, though."

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I kill Legion bastards in my spare time."

"When you're not doing that."

He scowled again, more like normal this time. "I clean my guns for when I find Legion."

She sighed. This was going nowhere. He wasn't going to cooperate. It seemed like he could only let his guard down when sitting around a secluded camp fire. "Fine. Have it your way."

Arria was tired and a bit more than annoyed. All she wanted to do was sleep. Instead, she was trying to pull answers from a reluctant sniper. What was she doing with her life?

"Go back to sleep. We'll leave out in the morning," she sighed, standing up. As she made her way to the door, Boone pushed himself into a sitting position.

"I used to see how fast I could tear down my gun, clean it, and put it back together back when I was in the military," he sighed. She turned around, slightly confused. Was he opening up? "It was sort of a competition. By the time I left, I was first."

"What happened to the person who came in last place?" she asked, walking closer.

"Anyone who didn't finish within a certain amount of time would have to clean the latrine with a toothbrush," he smirked. "So, it was good to win."

She smiled at him. That seemed like something he would do. "Did you always win?"

"Not even close," he shook his head. "It took me at least a year to get into the top five. Winning felt real good. Especially since everyone worked together afterwards to make sure those latrines were disgusting."

The bed creaked as Arria sat next to him. "Do you ever think about going back?"

"Sometimes," he admitted. "It was nice to not think. People told you what to do, and you just did it. But, that led to a lot of shit."

"I understand," she agreed, her own war flashbacks coming to the forefront of her mind. "Thank you for answering. You can go back to bed now. If you need me, I'll be in the other room." And with that, she left him alone in her bed.

The next morning, Arria walked through the doors of the Tops casino for the first time, her palms sweating even though Benny was long gone. Preferring privacy, she went alone, unaccompanied by the mob she had somehow accumulated. No, it was best that they didn't see her destroy his room. She wouldn't want them to be blamed either.

Like a good girl, she turned over her visible weapons and proceeded further into the building. If she knew Benny like she thought she did, then his room would be at the very top. She made her way past gamblers and dealers, drunks and angry wives until she was standing in front of elevators. Wiping her hands on her armor, she pressed the up button on the elevator, hoping that for once no one was watching.

* * *

With a pounding head, Boone woke up in Arria's bed alone. He vaguely remembered her falling asleep at some point in the night next to him. Being doped up on med-x at the time, he hadn't really cared; in fact, it had been kind of nice to have a warm body next to him. But now that he was fully awake and aware of his surroundings, it would have been awkward if they had woken up in the same bed. It was a sign that they were getting too close. He would have to fix that. His karma didn't need to come crashing down on her as well. He refused to have another Carla on his conscience.

After Boone got dressed and found himself something to eat, he began to wonder where she had gone to. Cass and Veronica were sitting in the kitchen talking to some blond guy, but Arria was nowhere to be found. He listened to the sounds of his companion's voices while he ate his bland toast. When the conversation lulled, he looked up.

"Where's Arria?" he grunted. The blond guy eyed him curiously. He must be Arcade, the doctor that had stitched him up. Boone didn't like the way he was looking at him.

"She just left a note saying that she'd be back later," Veronica said, passing him a yellowed piece of paper. Her spidery handwriting scrawled out in front of him, no hint of where she went. He sighed. Would she ever stop doing that?

"Your head is healing nicely," Arcade noted, his eyes running over his wound. Boone pulled his beret down further.

"Great," he sighed. "When she gets back, tell her I went over to McCarran."

Their talks last night left him feeling a little nostalgic. He could still remember staying up and playing cards with his team, knocking back a few beers before turning in for the night, laughing at Bitter-Root when he had to clean out the latrine. It was a simpler time-one that he kind of missed.

His walk there was uneventful. Most violent locals learned long ago that he was not to be messed with. As he walked past the King's territory, he was plagued by images of Arria with that slimy headed wannabe. Something he didn't want to acknowledge bubbled just below the surface, whispering for him to go in there and kick some ass. It subsided slowly as he made his way out of Freeside.

"Craig Boone," Bitter-Root greeted, a rare half-smile on his face. "What the hell happened to your head?"

The retired sniper gently rubbed his head. "Just a bump. Some dude with a cane."

Bitter-Root laughed until his face turned red. When he looked at Boone's face, he sobered up. "Anyways, what are you doing here?"

"Just checking in. Where are you all going?" he asked, eyeing the half packed packs.

"We were called to Forlorn Hope a while ago. Just had to make sure everything here was kosher before we left. Took a while, but we're heading up there tomorrow at dawn," the Khan explained. Boone whistled lightly. Forlorn Hope was not exactly a resort camp.

"Good luck, guys," he mumbled, taking a seat on an empty bed. "Need any help?"

Bitter-Root looked at him, a funny look on his face. "Aren't you still traveling around with that crazy courier chick?"

He nodded, not rising to the bait of defending Arria. Bitter-Root would never let him live it down. "Yeah. Just seeing if you need any help packing or anything."

"Nah. Stick around, though. Once we're done we can all play a round of poker like old times."

"Sounds like a plan."

* * *

Arria made her way back to the Lucky 38 with a head full of new ideas. An independent New Vegas, shaped by her ideas? Could it be possible? No wonder Benny took the chip. Hell, she probably would have, too. This could be her chance to prove that she was more than a Legion dog. But, she stopped. There was no point in getting ahead of herself. Whatever she decided, there was a million things to consider.

"Excuse me, miss," a man interrupted her thoughts by stepping in front of her. Arria fought back a scowl.

"Yes?"

"I have something here for you. It's from the White Glove Society. They said it was a thank you for what you did for them," he stammered quickly before shoving a box into her hands. His footsteps could be heard as she opened the box.

Inside laid a shiny key and a small note. In Marjorie's neat and elegant handwriting, she thanked the courier immensely and offered her the Bon Vivant suite, a room usually given to a high roller. Gently, she picked up the key and put it in her pocket, a small smile playing across her lips. Something good had actually come from that place. With a slight spring in her step, the courier continued on her way.

"I'm back," she called into the suite. Three voices greeted her, the fourth noticeably absent. He should be up by now. Where had he gone to?

"There's food on the stove," Cass said as she entered the dining room. The trio sat around the table, cups in hand. For once, they were just talking, not arguing or laughing at the expense of another. It was kind of nice. Arria grabbed a plate and joined them.

"So, Arria, when was the last time you got any?" Cass asked as the courier sat next to them.

Arria nearly spat out the fork full of food she had just put in her mouth. The group laughed at her dramatic reaction. "Surely you all could come up with a better topic than that."

"We did. But, you missed that one so we figured what the hell," Arcade explained, a smirk tweaking his lips upward.

"Well, let's fast forward a bit," she mumbled. As far as she was concerned, it had been way too long, but she was not going to admit that. "Where's Boone?"

"He said he went to McCarran. Left about an hour or so ago," Veronica said as she offered her a cup of hot coffee. Arria accepted with a grateful smile.

"Well, we can head over there after I finish eating if you guys want." Something started to squirm inside of Arria, some emotion that she really didn't like. Was that how Boone felt whenever she went off by herself? She shook that thought away. Every time she went off by herself, she was in full health, not half doped up on med-x. She quickly began to clear her plate, the thought turning her stomach nervously.

Arria knew where to find him as soon as she walked onto the camp. All she had to look for was a bunch of red berets, and they just so happened to be sitting around a table. She spotted Boone's face almost instantly but didn't approach at first. What if he hadn't wanted her to follow him? None of her companions had that consideration and continued on without her, each grabbing a chair or standing around the table. Boone's eyes scanned the new arrival's face until he came to her. With a nod, he pulled a chair out next to him and motioned for her to join him. She fought back a smile and sat down next to the retired sniper.

"Hey, sex on legs, you're a courier, right?" Corporal Betsy asked her.

"I was," she agreed, ignoring the nickname.

"Well, Colonel Hsu was looking for a courier. You should check that out."

Arria filed that away for after Boone finished his next hand. For once, she was content to sit there among her friends.


	28. Chapter 28

Arria looked over Camp Forlorn Hope with something like dismay spreading through her. Her only comfort was the fact that the name correctly described the pitiful encampment. Everything seemed very mismatched, rubble and sandbags for protection, pathetic tents and half-assed shacks. This was what the New California Republic put as their first line of defense against the Legion? Way to put the best foot forward.

The group walked past halves of bright blue busses and rusted, Frankenstein-looking metal houses. Boone led the way to where they needed to go, his feet sure on unsteady ground. Arria let her companions go ahead, her eyes constantly darting to the cliff where she knew there would be water. The building they needed was placed vicariously close to the edge, making it look like a swift wind could pick it up and throw in into the river below. Something made her stop and walk closer to the brink, a memory dancing at the edge of her consciousness.

Water filled her mouth and caressed her bare skin. Not a sound penetrated the wet barrier. Not babies crying. Not men yelling. Not women bickering. Not voices whispering about all she had done. Silence. Arria watched her hair flare around her, reveling in her moments of stolen peace. She looked up at the sunlight dancing on the surface and contemplated letting herself stay down forever. What a poetic way to go: swept away by life-giving water. Instead, she swam up with burning lungs; poetry was never her forte anyways. Besides, if she was going to die, it would be in the blaze of battle.

She broke the choppy surface without adding any ripples of her own and let her body float. The wind chilled her exposed breasts and thighs. With closed eyes, her body followed the gentle pull of the current. The farther she floated, the more time lost all meaning, slipping and leaping unbeknownst to her, until strong arms pulled her under. She didn't struggle as her captor heaved her toward the shore line, a little voice whispering that the arm that held her belonged to Vulpes.

His slim form burst from the waterline and onto shore, water falling off his body like rain. She wadded in the river, watching as he shook off some of the water. Her body hummed just watching him. With an icy glare, he motioned for her to follow, and for once, she did. Once they got away from prying eyes, he turned to face her.

Without a word, he began to circle her, his pace slow and tantalizing. She could feel his eyes caress every inch of her, but she stayed facing forward. This was a game, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to play. Eventually, he made his way back into her line of sight, a predatory smirk painted onto his slim face. She held back a shiver. He was looking for weakness, ready to pounce at the littlest sign.

"Why did you pull me away?" she asked, her voice stronger than she felt. Her mind swirled with all the nights they had spent together, knitting together a good idea of what he had in mind.

"You were flashing the whole damned camp," he murmured. His tone of voice did not match his word choice, which made her slightly nervous. She hadn't realized how close she was to the camp.

"It's my body. I'll do what I want."

His answering chuckled caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. "You are my future wife. What is yours is mine."

"Emphasis on 'future'. Meaning not yet."

Suddenly, he was inches away from her face, his hands tangling in her hair. They locked eyes, a battle of wills silently playing out. As annoyed as she was with him, she couldn't resist his advances. In all honesty, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. It had been so long since they had seen each other, his duties taking him further away. She hadn't even known that he was back until a few minutes ago.

Slowly, she let her head fall back, revealing her neck his hungry gaze. Gently, he untangled his hands and let them fall to her hips, where he bit into them with his fingers. Her heart began to race as his lips trailed along the contours of her neck and jaw line.

"Undress me," he ordered into her ear before taking a step back. She looked him over with an expert eye, deciding where to start. Slowly, she circled him, scrutinizing him in the same way he had. He was still wearing the suit he used in New Vegas, though now it was soggy and dripping. She could hear his deep chuckle as she pinched his butt.

As she faced him again, she reached for the tie. Most definitely that would have to be the first thing to go. Next, she slid off his jacket, gently letting her thumb nails scrape against his white shirt. He watched her with intrigue dancing in his eyes and his mouth pulled tight in concentration. She made quick work of the vest, tossing it into the sand beside them with a flick of her wrist. Then she began to pop the buttons of his undershirt, kissing the new skin she exposed until she got to his pants. He shrugged of the shirt with slight impatience and watched as she fiddled with his belt.

By the time she was done, Vulpes stood in front of her in all his pale glory. He panted slightly, driven mad by her need to kiss every inch of flesh she exposed. Arria sat back on her haunches and admired what she had uncovered. No matter how often she saw him, a naked Vulpes always made her pulse race. The fact that she could visibly tell that he wanted her made her smirk up at him. His eyes bore into her as he placed and finger under her chin and beckoned her closer.

Just as she was reaching eye level, a hand shook her back to the present. Her body heated up considerably, causing her cheeks to turn bright red. Beside her, Veronica watched with concern while Boone, Veronica, and Cass loitered, waiting for her to give signs of life.

"Are you ok?" the scribe asked as she tried to make eye contact with the dazed courier. It took Arria a minute, but she finally remembered where she actually was. Why hadn't there been any pain to warn her before she zoned out?

She cleared her throat and nodded. "Yes. I'm fine. Let's get this over with." And with that, she left her companions and went to look for Major Polatli. This message wasn't going to deliver itself.

* * *

The next week flew by faster than Veronica could keep up. Arria seemed to work with manic focus, moving from area to area as fast as she could. One day she was hunting lost supplies and punching Fantastic at Helios One; the next, she was re-taking Nelson, killing Legion with finesse. But, she was not the same courier that Veronica met at the 188 Outpost. No, she seemed distant, driven by some force that Veronica couldn't see. Every time the scribe tried to talk to her about it, she would just get shrugged off. It wasn't like Arria.

Boone, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the activity. In fact, he seemed happier than Veronica had ever seen him. It was probably because they were finally killing Legion. Twice in a week certainly put a spring in his step. But, whenever she looked at him, he was watching Arria, his eyebrows knitted together. Apparently he shared the scribe's concern.

"What do you think is wrong with her?" Cass asked when Veronica voiced her concerns.

"I don't know. It looks like she's struggling with something. I haven't seen her eat in a while, have you?"

"No," Cass shook her head. "But, she'll be fine. Just let her deal with it. Maybe she had a fight with her lover." The redhead nudged her suggestively and nodded toward Boone.

"They aren't a thing, you know that right?"

"How do you know?"

Veronica snorted. "Arria is too frustrated to be getting regular sex."

"I know that feeling. It's been at least a week."

"Boo-freaking-hoo," Veronica scoffed.

Cass ignored her as she watched the courier walk past them. "Maybe that's why she acting like this?"

"Maybe," the scribe agreed, only half believing it. No, it was something deeper. She could feel it.

* * *

Arria sat on the highest point she could find and stared down at the river. In the morning, they would head back to the Strip, their duties for Camp Forlorn Hope complete. All she had to show for the past week was higher camp moral. Too bad she didn't remember too much of it. She had been on auto-pilot for the better part of the week, going from task to task simply because she had to. It had been easier to kill Legion that way. At the time, she didn't have to deal with the fact that she was killing people who were like family. The look on Dead Sea's face haunted her now, though, along with every other face that she destroyed.

The guilt inside her didn't allow her to look at Boone. Every time he came within her line of sight, she had to look away. Something inside her was angry with him for the pleasure he took in killing Legion. But, she had signed up for it. She had taken him on, promising to let Legion blood flow like water. That was before she knew who she really was. And she couldn't change who he was.

It was times like that when her hatred for Caesar would boil. He brain washed all the men she had killed. He had built the monsters that took Boone's wife. Eventually, he would have to atone for what he has done, and Arria promised that she would string him up herself if it was the last thing she did. It was time that his men saw him for what he really was.

"Party for one? Or, can I join?" a voice behind her asked. She turned to find the blond doctor staring at her, blood spattered on his white coat. While they were off gallivanting around the Mojave, he had stayed behind to help the local doctor patch up broken men.

"Do what you want. I don't know what kind of company I'll be though," she admitted, scooting over so he could sit next to her. Arria pulled her knees to her chest and looked back over the river.

"Anything is better than the screams of men in pain. Better on the ears, too," he quipped lamely as he tried to get his gangly legs to cross. "It's beautiful, isn't it? So much better than anything man could create." His eyes were on the horizon and the setting sun. She nodded in agreement.

"Gorgeous. I wish I could paint it, but I fail at art."

"Me too. I was never one for drawing. I could play a mean piano, though. I mean, look at these fingers."

"They are the best fingers I have ever seen," she played along, a smile dancing on her lips.

"Flattery, my dear, will get you absolutely everywhere," he purred, his eyebrows rising suggestively. She chuckled and pushed him away. This was the first time they had really been alone since they started traveling together. It wasn't so bad. At least he wasn't prying.

The pair sat together, not talking, until the sun disappeared and for some time afterward. Each in their own reveres, yet equally comforted by the mere presence of a warm body. Neither moved until Veronica called to them, announcing that it was dinner time. Arria looked back over the water, not ready to face everyone yet.

"You go ahead. I'll be there in a minute," she told the doctor, hoping that her tone told him there would be no negotiating. He stared at her for a second, probably deciding whether or not to listen to her, before he stood up.

"We won't wait up then," he nodded to her as he walked away. Smart man.

In the solitude that followed, Arria let her mind wander. It jumped from topic to topic until finally it landed on Vulpes. She had pushed all thoughts of her last recovered memory as far away as she possibly could, not ready to deal with it. Now, it made its way to the forefront of her mind, demanding attention. Despite everything, she still missed him. Her body ached to have him near. Her heart contracted painfully when she thought of his face. But, most of all, she wanted to talk to him, to have the open conversations they used to have. In her new world of secrets, all she wanted was honesty.

Thoughts of Vulpes were painful so she turned to Boone, a topic no better at recovering her good mood. A war of emotions swirled inside her, and she fought to stay rooted in place. Whenever she looked at him, all she wanted was to wrap her arms around him and pull him close. To mend to pain that mirrored hers. But, she was not meant to be that girl. No, she was ex-Legion, and he would leave her on that far off day when he found out. It was doomed, but she couldn't help but hold on. She scowled. Hell, she didn't even know if the feelings were mutual or if she was just delusional.

Before she could brood further, dirt crunched under boot and alerted her to incoming company. From the general silence of their movements, Arria guessed Boone was coming to see why she wasn't eating. Quickly, she composed herself, hoping to seem nonchalant.

"Thought I'd find you here," he said as he walked up behind her. Before she could protest, Boone shoved a plate of food under her nose and sat down to eat his. His ease eventually soothed her enough to allow her to pick at some meat.

"I told Arcade I'd be there in a minute," she noted, twirling her fork.

"A minute came and went."

Slowly, the white of her plate began to reappear as she continued to eat. Boone stared at the horizon, occasionally glancing at Arria to make sure she wasn't just dumping the food when he looked away. She kept her eyes on the plate.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked, put off by her silence.

"Peachy." The words sounded bitter even to her ears. "I mean-"

"No, I understand," he said quickly. His brows furrowed as he tried to get out what he had to say. "You've had to deal with the people who took people important to you. I understand. It's hard. But, you did a good job."

Arria looked at the man in front of her, the truth dancing at the tip of her tongue. He saved her the trouble by continuing.

"Sometimes, I feel like that's going to happen to me. Karma has a way of tying up loose ends…"

The courier looked at him, slightly confused. Was he still on this? "What are you-?"

"Forget I said anything," he growled, avoiding her gaze.

Arria was very tempted to let it go. She would never be able to open up to him, never be able to reciprocate his honesty. So, why try to get something that she was unworthy of? But, like always, the words were out of her mouth without her realizing.

"No, Boone, I won't forget it. Tell me."

"Drop it."

"Not a chance. Talk to me, Boone. I could probably understand better than you think."

Silence yawned between them. Star twinkled down on them, and the food left on their plates grew cold. Neither of them cared, too focused on the other person. Arria made herself stare into his shaded eyes.

Finally, with a sigh, Boone looked away and slowly began to speak. "There was a…miscommunication."

Arria assumed he was talking about Bitter Springs. "Must have been one hell of a miscommunication."

"Yeah, well. That's how they wrote it up in the report," he scowled. "We did what we were there to do. Lots of people got killed. That's war. Maybe looking back you'd do things differently, but that's not how it works. In the field, you hesitate, you or someone you care about will die. They teach you that from day one."

The tone of his voice sent chills down her spine; he sounded dead inside. His eyes glazed over, and he scowled. Fighting the urge to comfort him, she turned away. "Sounds like you have a lot of regrets," she commented.

"You don't come out of a tour of duty without regrets. It's best just not to think about it."

"Do you think about Bitter Springs a lot?"

He turned his face slightly, his eyes downcast. "Yeah. Always. Even when I sleep."

"Maybe it would help to go back there?" It was worth a shot.

"I don't think so," Boone scowled at her, giving her the impression that she had said the wrong thing. "It won't change anything. And that's a memory I don't want refreshed."

"So, that's why you have bad things coming to you? Bitter Springs?"

"Life has a way of punishing you for the mistakes you make. Big enough mistake, punishment could take a while. Mine's not over."

She hated how resigned he sounded. She wanted to shake him and tell him to fight to make things better. Instead, she calmly laid a hand on his shoulder. The sniper looked at her hand as if he thought about moving it, but he let it lay. "Maybe you could make up for your mistakes."

He shook his head. "A murderer who does good deeds is still a murderer. And he'll still get his judgment. I left the NCR when my tour was up. Had enough of war. Decided I was going to start over. None of it made a difference in the end."

With that, he gently shook off her hand and stood up. Before he could walk away, she asked him one last question. "So, how do you know that you're punishment isn't over yet?"

He didn't even turn around to face the courier as he answered. "Because I'm still alive." And with that he left her alone to contemplate his words.

* * *

Arria awoke before the sun the next morning and rolled out of her makeshift bed. Beside her, Cass and Veronica continued to slumber. They were turned toward each other as if they had fallen asleep talking. Quietly, the courier covered them up before making her way outside.

The air was quiet with an early morning somber. Every soldier she passed nodded at her, sleepy smiles pointed in her direction. The courier tried to return all the ones she could. Boone's chilling words still rang in her head, causing images of dead snipers to populate her imagination. No matter how much she tried to blink them away, they always laid in wait for her around every corner. In fact, when she actually saw Boone walking toward her, she didn't know if it was real or a dream. Only when he started talking did she know he was real.

"Hey," he greeted. His bleary eyes sought hers, and she wondered if he had slept at all.

"How did you sleep?"

The sniper shook his head. "Barely. I thought some more about what you said. I think maybe you were right. Maybe I should go back to Bitter Springs." After a beat he added, "I don't know what I'm hoping to find there."

It took Arria a few seconds to realize what he had said, and when she finally did, she couldn't believe her ears. "What changed your mind?"

"Nothing. Dream. Just tired of thinking about it."

"Okay. We'll head out at first light. I'll send the girls and Arcade back to the Strip to see if Benny's back, and then we can leave. Until then, go get some sleep. You look exhausted."

Arria left him alone so he could get ready for his remaining few hours of sleep. Meanwhile, she took up her favorite lookout spot and waited for the sunrise.


End file.
